


Dabble in Drabbles

by seamonster



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bad Puns, Begging, Blood, Comfort, Cop AU, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Fantasy elements, Father-Child Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Gore, Groping, Human Zenyatta, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Mentions of Blood, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual, Noodle Dragons, Other, Species Swap, Time Travel, Uniform Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Yandere Elements, driving recklessly, i think that's what it would be?, insecure reaper, lessons in love, mild assault, omnic reader, please drive safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 61,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamonster/pseuds/seamonster
Summary: Hello friends!This is where I shall accept, and post, requests and prompts for any of the pairings listed in the relationships tag! I'll also likely dump small drabbley bits I have bouncing around in my docs here, too. Please refer to chapter one for rules! If you're here to request something, do not skip chapter one! If you're here to read, it will be from chapter two onward.Characters and tags will be added as needed.REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN!





	1. RULES!!!

Alright! So I've decided to try opening prompts here on AO3, which I've never done before. I think it'll work out fine, though, if everyone plays by the rules. I assume you're here to read, which means you  _can_ read, so read this first.

 

**Will write:**

-requests and prompts

-HC's!

 

_**THE RULES:** _

 

 **1.** REQUESTS WILL BE ACCEPTED ON THIS CHAPTER ONLY. Please leave them as a comment. If you drop your request or prompts in any of the following chapters to come, I will quite literally pretend like they don't exist and possibly even delete it without answering; so please be aware of where you're leaving the request. I just want to keep them all in one place so it's less of a mess.

 **2.** ONLY REQUEST THE TAGGED PAIRINGS. I know that seems obvious, but I've received requests in the past on tumblr where folks were asking for pairings I do not write for, and then got persnickety when I told them no. That being said, if you ask for a pairing not tagged, I'll likely ignore and delete it.

 **3.** JUST BECAUSE YOU REQUESTED IT, DOESN'T MEAN I'LL WRITE IT. It's an open invitation, not a promise, but I will give your prompt or request credit unless it is posted anonymously.

 

Aside from that, I'm open to a lot of stuff!  **And while I do write NSFW stuff on occasion, don't be surprised if I accept those requests less often than others.** Feel free to request readers of all types! Though I do try to make them all either Gender non-specific or Non-Binary to make most everyone feel included***. Also feel free to drop wild AU's and crazy ideas! 

 

Let's have fun!

 

 *****1st Amendment 2/14/19:** Hello friends! I don't intend for this to come off as trying to make anyone feel bad, I just really need to ask that y'all please stop asking me to write female readers or prompts that have things to do with very female-specific scenarios. I personally grew up  _knowing_ I wasn't a girl or a boy, but was still stuck in a female body in a part of the USA where gender and gender roles were extremely black and white to most folks (and still mostly are). While I am comfortable and confident in my identity now, all us trans folk have bad days and certain things that can set that off. So please be kind and mindful of that when you're submitting prompts. I'm not going to write women readers. I'm just not. If I take a prompt asking for female, I'll change it to gender-neutral. Real talk, there are plenty ( _plenty_ ) of female-reader fics in these tags. If that's what you're really after, I suggest having a look elsewhere, because you're not gonna find it here. If you're cool with neutrality or fics that are altogether gender non-specific, then I hope you continue to enjoy yourself here. Thank you for your time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to only leave requests on chapter one please!


	2. See But Don't Touch - McCree NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-fall, Blackwatch
> 
> Coming back from a long mission, reader catches someone in their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a request, just a lil thing i came up with to get the ball rolling! god i love me some mccree.

To say that you were tired wouldn't just be an understatement. It would be outright laughable, were you not too exhausted to even crack a smile. Reyes had you camped out in Russia for almost three weeks in the dead of winter, keeping a weathered eye on the comings and goings of a suspected weapons smuggling ring. The safe house had been a shack and you'd spent your days in a lookout you'd dug into the snow, staring down your scope. Until Reyes called you back a week early. Your skin had gone completely numb and the heaters that had welcomed you on the dropship had _hurt_ , like needles pricking until your body readjusted to warmth.

 You had twelve hours to rest up before Reyes expected a debrief, and you intended to spend it in a passionate embrace with your bed. Completely dead to the world for at least ten of those hours. You'd earned it. You’d _over-_ earned it.

 Your bag scraped softly against the sleek hallway floors, corner barely dragging in your lax grip. You didn't even hear it. Your focus was on a faux-feather pillow crooning your name, eyes staring blankly ahead of you. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were walking, simply moving on muscle memory.The halls were quiet, you couldn’t remember what time it was. And then you were at your door, finally. You put your fingers on the panel and it opened with a soft hiss, letting you stumble into the dark solitude.

Except you apparently weren’t alone.

 Despite your exhaustion, your senses still stood at attention while you stood silently in your darkened sitting room and tried to make sense of what you were hearing. There was someone breathing laboriously and the slick sound of skin on wet skin. It was coming from your bedroom, door partially open. You put your bag down without making a sound, brows beginning to furrow. Very few people had free access to your living quarters.

A deep, broken moan made the skin on your shoulders jump. It was followed by a few soft curses and had you creeping to your bedroom door to look in.

Out of everyone, Jesse McCree was _not_ who you would have expected to see in your bed. Though, honestly, anyone would have been a surprise. What was more of a surprise was the vigorous way he was fucking into his fist, pants pushed down to his knees as he spread his long form out over your blankets.

He moaned again, your own name bleeding from his lips into the otherwise quiet apartment. His eyes were screwed tightly shut and he kept his head half-turned into your pillow, likely breathing in the smell of your hair and shampoo that lingered there.

  _Fu-ck, babydoll…”_

Babydoll? He’d certainly never called you that to your face. He bit his lip and groaned, breathing beginning to stutter, thumping his head back against the pillow as his wrist moved faster. In the near-non existent lighting, you couldn’t tell if he’d used lube or had just leaked that much precum, but his movements were smooth and quick over what looked to be an impressively hard erection.

Your name was on his lips again, whispered over and over like he was worshiping the image of you in his mind. Until his jaw fell slack, hips jerking off the bed a few times. In a quick motion, his free hand snatched his shirt down over his length just in time, losing his breath in a deep moan as he came.

You were grateful he had the foresight to make sure he didn’t soil your blankets.

His breathing was haggard for a few moments, chest heaving, and you let him catch his breath before breaking the atmosphere.

“Jesse.”

To his credit, he didn’t jump. But you knew you’d taken him by surprise because his eyes squeezed tighter shut for a moment, mortification spreading out over his face. He tried to brush it off with a smile that was more shaky than cocky as you slid the door the rest of the way open.

“You’re, uh, back early there, darlin’.” His eyes jumped around at the walls, unable to meet yours while he quickly yanked his pants back up. “Mission go well?”

“Jesse,” you repeated and he finally flinched. You didn’t have to say anything else, it was all in your tone. Looking guilty as sin, he got off your bed, zipping up and fixing his belt. You could physically see the high of his orgasm souring like rotten milk inside of him, and he wasn’t typically that easy to read. He kept his eyes on the ground, grabbing his hat off your dresser and pulling it down low, keeping silent.

When he made to pass you at the door, however, you stopped him with a single hand. It was meant to hold him back at his stomach, but he stopped just shy of the actual contact. The fabric of his shirt barely brushing your palm.

For a moment, you couldn’t think of what to say, you just felt like you needed to say _something_. McCree swallowed hard, eyes barely flickering to you for a half-second.

You were still exhausted, brain slow to process the weight of what you’d just witnessed and what it meant to McCree. What it might do to your relationship with him. You eventually pinched your eyes shut, rubbing a tired hand over your tired face.

“I need to sleep,” you finally said out loud, turning slightly to him. “But we are going to talk about this when I wake up. And if you try to avoid me, I will shoot you in the foot, understand?”

He swallowed again, face a cocktail of emotions that was still weird to see on someone who usually played his cards so close to his chest. But he nodded, speaking the softest you’d ever heard out of him. “I understand.”

You let him go at that and waited until you heard him leave before sighing heavily and rubbing your face again with both hands. Armor and clothes were dropped directly onto the floor before you dropped your body into your bed, fuck a shower. You apparently needed to clean your blankets anyway. As you snuggled under your duvet in nothing but your underpants, you let go of weeks worth of tension; mind permitting your body to finally relax, face smooshed into your pillow.

A somewhat familiar scent lingered there that was not yours. Like tobacco and smokey cologne. It was nice, and it followed you into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to only drop requests in the comments of chapter one please!


	3. Red String - Hanzo SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Name?WhatName: Ello. Would soulmates Fem!Reader x ScaryDragonEmperor!Hanzo of ancient Imperial Japan be of any interest? Like being chosen as his Empress from not even from his pool of eligible maidens, or from servitude, or as a peace treaty. Maybe time travel if your not interested in writing about the ancient period. SFW or NSFW. Honestly anything as long as there's Dragon man Hanzo. Thanks for reading.  
> \---  
> He was resplendent in silk and gold.
> 
> And you were in your pajamas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU HAD ME AT TIME TRAVEL. although i probs veered off-course here. ah well. i also tweaked it slightly to be gender non-specific, so more folks can imagine themselves in reader's shoes. hope you like it!

Colors hazed around you in a whirling mess, pressure changing and making your ears pop and ache. Your stomach turned, nausea slapping you even harder than it had when you'd laid down for bed.

Then everything was suddenly clear, and he was there.

He glowed with a brightness that was both captivating, yet hard to look at. Deep blue silk fluttered with twinkling stars, draping in waves down to his feet. But it did not cover all of him. The arm and chest exposed was painted in the turbulent grey of storm clouds, yellow lightning cracking through. Silken hair of deepest night barely slipped over his shoulders, and those  _ eyes _ . They caged you in their intensity, looking nowhere but you and raking over your very soul.

A soft voice of indiscernible words broke that attention and he finally glanced away.

You looked around to find you were standing in some sort of opulent hall, carved pillars of gold rising up around you like redwoods. There were many soldiers in gleaming armor lining the hall, around and behind you, but none of them shone as brightly as the man on the throne. Even their faces seemed blurred to you, only his was clear. It was all so vivid.

And so, so fucking weird. Shit, that was the last time you mixed sleeping pills and allergy medicine before bed. This was the wildest dream you'd  _ ever _ had. The whole thing was like some sort of feudal Japan acid trip. Not. Not that you'd ever done acid.

You couldn't help smiling though as you looked around and up. There were storm clouds overhead, instead of a ceiling, occasionally lit by silent streaks of lightning. You thought you caught sight of something blue… or green snaking between the clouds, too, but it was gone as soon as you actively started searching. The pillars disappeared out of sight in all directions. It felt funny to be standing amidst it all in your pajamas.

To the left of the Emperor? Sat more people in fancy silks, all heads bowed. To his right was a single man. Strangely enough, the more you looked at him, the clearer his face became. He looked young, a playful smirk around his lips. The silk under his armor was vibrantly green. As you looked him over, you thought his hair turned green, too, but when you snapped your eyes back, it was still black.  His smirk widened though, giving you a small wave with the hand not resting on the hilt of his sword. You waved back.

The Emperor spoke sharply and your attention returned to him, though he seemed to be glaring at the green warrior out of the corner of his eyes, lips in a tight frown.

You snorted. “This is wild.”

You froze, the sound of your voice barely echoing in the hall as your face slowly fell. That was… odd. You were a frequent dreamer of many weird yet forgettable things. You've spoken in your dreams before, but that felt…

Like it actually came out of you.

“What..?” You spoke again softly, just to see if you felt the vibration of the word in your mouth and chest.

The Emperor stood smoothly, slowly descending from his throne towards you.

“You stand in the presence of the Dragon Emperor. It would serve you well to show some respect.” He spoke evenly, but the authority behind his words was palpable. You only looked at him in bafflement. His patience was clearly limited, as the next word was growled. “Kneel.”

The laugh that came out of you was short. “I don't kneel to people when I'm awake, I'm not gonna start doing it in my dreams, pal. I don't care how shiny your hair is, it’s not happening.”

The green warrior snickered. The Emperor looked distinctly unimpressed, expression impassive, paused on his steps.

You threw up two fingers, deciding you'd had enough of this dream. It was time to move on to one less bright, your eyes were starting to water. ….Huh.

But as you turned to leave, all the soldiers shifted, closing ranks and eliminating the gaps between them. Okay then. You turned on your bare feet and headed for the green warrior instead. He seemed light tempered, he might let you pass.

However, as soon as your intention became clear, the Emperor scowled, roaring something in what you assumed was Japanese.

Loud thunder came booming from the previously silent storm overhead, and a bolt of blue came crashing to the floor in dangerous coils. Scales glittering sharply, the large visage of a fucking dragon intercepting you with a warning growl that you shook you right into your bones.

You choked on a yelp, turning heel once more and trying to run in the other direction. But your luck had abandoned you as another glowing, blue dragon slithered out of the storm and cut off your new path. You were surrounded.

The second dragon didn't growl, though, or make any threatening movements. Depth-less black eyes looked you over as intensely as the Emperor had. Then it darted forward to coil around you, blocking your view of the hall and swallowing your scream.

  
  
  


Your head was pounding before you even opened your eyes. Like the worst hangover of your life. Yeah, you were never, ever,  _ ever _ mixing meds again. None of it, not taking any chances. You promised to swear a blood oath about it once your head stopped throbbing.

With a weak groan, you attempted to roll over in bed and bury your face into your pillow. There was something tangled around your legs though, and you blindly reached down to yank at it, stubbornly keeping your eyes closed.

It was silk, so light that it felt like cool water between your fingers. You didn't own anything that fancy and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Reluctantly, you peeked down.

It was a silken robe of blue, decorated in gold stitching. And it was on you. In fact, it was the only thing you were wearing.

You shot up with a sharp gasp, finding yourself in a large bed of luxurious blankets; completely, and undeniably,  _ awake _ .

“What the fresh hell…” You barely breathed the words, eyes darting around the room. It wasn’t the same hall as your dream, or, whatever. But it was just as royal and imperial and where the  _ fuck were you??? _ The large, intricately painted scrolls hanging on the walls held no answers because you couldn’t read kanji and there were no windows or doors visible where you sat.

Again you looked down at yourself, quickly pulling the robe tighter shut, trying not to think about your lack of undergarments or where the hell your pajamas had vanished to. A sound like skittering had you snapping your head towards the edge of the bed, eyes wide. Swallowing fear, you shuffled closer, peering slowly over the edge.

With a scream, you threw yourself back, barely in time to avoid having the end of your nose snapped off by small, but powerful jaws. A dragon, much like the one from your--from before, growled at you as it scampered away in a much smaller form that made it look like a long, glowing cat. You followed it with you eyes across the room until it dove and disappeared into the man’s skin with a flash of light.

You gasped again and scooted back. He watched with a single passive eyebrow raised before finally deigning to speak.

“You have awoken.”

“Yeah, no shit. Where am I?”

He sat at a low table, scrolls spread out in front of him.

“You are in my home,” he answered simply.

“ _ Where is home? _ Did you kidnap me?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “You are… not a goat.”

“I know that!” Your voice pitch a few octaves, bordering hysterical as panic finally seeped in. Eyes burning as they watered. “Why am I here? Where are my clothes? Did you undress me?? Who are you!” There was an edge on anger in that last question.

The Emperor ceased whatever he was working on and stood smoothly. You scrambled further back as he approached the bed, still holding the robe tightly closed. It gave him pause, hands raising in a gesture of surrender.

“My name is Hanzo. It is not my wish to harm you, nor frighten you further. I have already received a very… firm scolding for my earlier behavior.” His gaze shifted to the far right corner of the bed and, despite yourself, so did yours.

Another small dragon lay there, so silent that’d you’d missed it entirely. It was watching your every movement with wide, dark eyes. When you looked at it, it’s entire demeanor perked up. You were struggling to process what you were seeing.

“As for your clothes, they were not worthy of you, so I had them burned.”

“And you undressed me?” You repeated, the anger definitely there now. But it didn’t even phase Hanzo. He simply nodded sagely, like it was perfectly acceptable.

“No one else is permitted to look upon you but me.”

“Says who?” You ground out, finding it easier to focus on this one problem while panic still jumping under your skin.

The Emperor looked bewildered. “Fate, of course.” He held up a single hand and whispered something under his breath that you didn’t catch. Before you could snap at him again, there was a glimmer, then a red string bled into reality. It was tied around his wrist and you followed it’s slack down over the blankets to yourself, where the other end was tied to your own wrist.

“What-!” You stood up on the mattress, yanking at the string, but it didn’t grow taut or break, simply got longer or shorter as you moved around.

“It is the red string of Fate, tying together two souls. You are meant to be mine, just as I am meant to be yours. I called upon my ancestors and my family’s guardian spirits to bring my intended to me. That is how you got here.”

Hanzo explained patiently while you waved your arm around, even hopping off the bed and distancing yourself as far as the room would allow, but the string remained.

Once his words sunk in, you marched right back over and pointed a finger in his handsome face. The dragon on the bed watched in clear amusement, ears flicking.

“Now you look here, you creep. I am the only one who decides who I belong to, not some string or whatever hocus pocus you’re spinning here. And I demand that you take me home  _ immediately. _ ”

Given his previous reactions, you expected irritation, not the barest hint of amusement that crossed his features.

“You have a lot of fire in you. That is good.” He caught you off-guard, snatching an arm around your waist and dragging your bodies flushed together, despite your sharp gasp and wide eyes. “You are going to need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, i consider anything under 2k words a drabble. don't fight me on that.


	4. Call It By Thy Name - Moira SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nexanda: If possible looking for some cute and SFW Moria/reader. Everyone seems to think she's mean and dark, sure she has that air but I bet she came be romantic and sweet if given the chance. Leith valentines day coming up maybe she leaves little gifts for the reader not wanting them to knowing its her yet but is caught early valentine morning. Many thanks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't even realize Valentines was so soon, haha. I set this one during her time with Overwatch, before she joined Blackwatch. A somewhat younger Moira would be more inclined towards romance, I think. Hope you like it! Reader is gender-nonspecific, as always <3

The first signs were starting to go up around the watchpoint. Like ground zero of a plague. First, it was in the form of paper hearts, taped to walls and lockers and doors. It was sweet, as sweet as the chocolates you started spying in desk drawers. Even major, civilian-run military organizations bowed in the presence of love, it seemed.

While it was nice to witness, you never actually participated beyond a thoughtful gesture from a coworker or two. Dedication to your career had rendered your romantic relationship status nearly obsolete, and had for many years.

It no longer bothered you. You simply smiled wistfully and continued on with your work.

Pressing a hand to an access panel, you wandered through the door that hissed open, eyes on your datapad. You had to take the half-eaten bagel out of your mouth to speak.

“Got the pathology report back on Nguyen. You were right about the C87 count, it's nearly tripled. I sent them to medbay until further notice…”

Your rambling trailed off when you glanced around the chilly lab, spying no one outside of the rabbit in its cage.

“...And you're not even here.”

Dr. O'Deorain was a brilliant researcher who was also weirdly good at disappearing right when you needed her. Er, wanted her. The two of you didn't actually work in the same department. She was probably just busy with her own workload, of course, but disappointment made your shoulders slump anyway.

The rest of your bagel was shoved into your mouth with little fanfare. Damn, you wanted to get her opinion on something. Sure, she wasn't technically qualified to give advice on synthesizing anti-viral vaccinations. But her knowledge of genetics always gave her a unique perspective on things that you valued hearing.

The door hissed open behind you and you almost choked to death on cream cheese.

“Oh. Doctor, I was just looking for you.”

You spun on your heel, gulping painfully hard to clear your esophagus as you lab coat fluttered with the quick motion.

“Doctor O'Deorain! I was just looking for you, too,” you managed to croak out.

She smiled faintly, still standing in the doorway until you realized you were blocking her out and jumped to the side with an apology.

“It's quite alright, dear. Please, come in.”

Moira shed her lab coat, despite the room's temperature, draping it over a stool as she made her way to one of her work stations.

“I wanted to inquire about your schedule Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Your eyebrows perked up as you mentally went over your schedule. “I need to finish up a few reports from the Rio outbreak last week. Aside from that, not much is currently planned.”

“And you’ll be doing those in your office?”

That was kind of a strange question, but Moira was still smiling at you, rolling up her sleeves. You gave a slight shrug. “Probably.”

“Brilliant. Last question, what is your opinion on clams?” You finally gave the tall woman a funny look that made her chuckle. “Humor me.”

“Fair, I guess.”

“Wonderful.”

She gave you a much fonder smile as she snapped a rubber glove on and it made your tummy flutter a bit. She certainly was a striking woman when she smiled like that. Maybe… you could ask her if she liked chocolate? No, no, that was ridiculous. You were work colleagues and friends. And you’ve never seen her entertain the idea of romance.

“Now,” the subject shifted easily, Moira still giving you a slice of her attention as she turned to her work. “What was it you needed?”

 

\---

 

Thursday was Valentine’s Day, as you realized, walking to your labs through hallways crowded with people exchanging sweets and smiles. It seemed fitting that you’d be spending it at your desk, probably getting a backache while trying to finish six different patient reports. You did sneak a little brownie from the commissary in with you, taking small bites every now and then.

You were only a few hours into you day when nature called. So with a stretch, you opened your office door, intending to head for the lavatories. However, finding Dr. O’Deorain in your lab took you for a pause.

She paused as well, heterochromatic eyes widening. There was an ice bucket in her hands, sans ice. She seemed to be placing it on one of your lab tables that had been recently cleared off. It wasn’t just the bucket, though. There was also a lovely red tablecloth, tableware enough for two, two empty wine glasses, among other things. You both blinked at each other before she cursed softly in Gaelic.

“You usually hoard yourself in there for longer than that when you do reports.” She tutted, not at you per se, but at the situation.

“What…,” you look everything over again, confused but feeling your cheeks begin to flush. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” Moira looked at the set-up, too. “My intention was to get all this spread out, grab the food, serve it, then knock on your door and ask you to have lunch with me.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of you.

“Doctor, you could have just asked me if I wanted to grab lunch. You didn’t have to bring it here.”

“Well, the point was for it to be a date, for Saint Valentine.”

She said it so bluntly that the impact felt dull at first, and then there was fire in your face and ears.

“A d--… a date?”

“Should you accept, of course. I can take this all back if you’re not interested--”

“I am!”

A look of mild surprise crossed her face at your outburst, but there was a playful smirk underneath it. Like she knew you’d accept regardless.

“Wonderful.” Moira put the bucket down. “Although I do believe the surprise is quite ruined.”

“That’s fine!” You waved your hands as though you were trying to wave away any metaphorical objections that might try to derail an actual _date_ with someone you admired so much. “I can help you finish setting up, and we can get the food together.”

“What about your reports?” She asked lightly, despite clearly finding your enthusiasm delightfully amusing.

“I can finish them tonight, or tomorrow. It’ll be fine. My supervisor is on leave anyway.”

You realized as you were pushing the sleeves of your lab coat up that you were wearing, well, a lab coat. And day two chinos. Probably a day three shirt. You’d also neglected to brush your hair that morning.

As if she could read your mind, Moira stepped right up to you, intent clear as she placed her hands on the collar of your coat.

“You don’t need to change, not for me.” Something warm dripped into your core as she slowly peeled the lab coat back off your shoulders, standing so very close to you. Every inch down your arms brought you closer together as she gazed over your face. Her voice lowered to an intimate whisper. “I’ve always found you breathtaking like this.”

Funny, since you were the one forgetting about air.

The coat slid to the floor, her fingertips trailing ghostly-soft back up your arms, wracking a shiver up your spine, breath catching.

“Now,” as she reached your shoulders, her touch hesitated and you felt your anticipation rise. “Clams.”

With that, she stepped away, releasing whatever spell she’d laid on you and you couldn’t help blinking owlishly.

“Clams?”

“Lunch, dear.”

Oh right… lunch.


	5. A Spoonful of Sugar - Morrison SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 00Hasha00: How about SFW Dad soldier76 x F!Reader.Like some cute family stuff(him taking care after his sick kid or something)without anything that romantic in general.GayDad76 is the best ✨✨✨

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dad76 is best dad and I will fight anyone who disagrees until my last breath. reader tweaked to be gender non-specific so all folks can enjoy.

You were pathetic. Just absolutely pitiful. Day four of the most recent super-flu and you wanted to die. Not because you were burning up, flushed and woozy in sweat-soaked sheets. Not because you'd completely slept through your own goddamned birthday and couldn’t stay up long enough to even play the new game your dad got you. It was the boredom. The skull-splitting, watching water boil and paint dry boredom. You wanted to die.

Another small whine squeezed out of you as you let your phone flop down onto the mattress, _wishing_ you had to energy to throw a tantrum.

“Still bad, kiddo?”

Your dad leaned against the door frame to your room with his arms crossed. He was smiling lightly, but you could still see the worry in his eyes. Your case of the flu was lasting unusually long.

You gave him an exaggerated pout, pulling your covers up to your chin like a toddler and nodding. It got a small chuckle out of him. He pulled your desk chair over to the bedside, sitting heavily into it with a sigh.

“You’re not worried about getting sick?” You voice was a little course from disuse. Dad had been at work all morning, the duties of a Strike Commander never over.

“Nah, I don’t really get sick anymore, sweetheart, you know that. Can’t have super soldiers catching colds during a war.”

Alright, that was fair.

“You home for lunch?” He was lacking his blue body armor, leaving him in a tee and his fatigues. It was odd. Until he shook his head.

“Ana offered to cover for me for the rest of the day, actually. So I’m here with you. Have you been taking your medicine?”

You nodded while he looked over your bedside table.

“Need anything? More water, something to eat?”

A shake of your head dispelled his questions. “I’m just bored.”

“Bored, huh? Can your old man keep you company?”

You giggled weakly, muttering, “old man.” But then your eyes lit up.

“Hey, can you play my new game?”

He blinked at the question, obviously confused.

“You want me to… set it up for you?”

You shook your head again, this time with a little more energy. “I’m too tired to play, I want to watch you do it.”

He made a face, scratching the back of his neck. “Kiddo, video games aren’t really--”

“I know you used to play them when you were a kid!”

“That was a long time ago.”

You pouted again, staring straight into his eyes, letting your lip quiver ever-so gently. You _knew_ you looked pathetic.

“Pleeaase daddy?”

For as strong of a man Jack Morrison was, he was play-doh in the hands of his child. His broad shoulders sagged, a resigned look on his face.

“Alright, where is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, KH3 just came out so i'll probs be doing these kinda slow until i finish it, haha. i've waited a long winter for that game.


	6. In Every Tomorrow - Genji SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bee: i would love post-recall genji and reader :^0 maybe like a scenario where reader is trying to guess genji's crush and they think it's angela and genji is just getting flustered like oh my god no it's you ?? thank you for all your wonderful writing ;_;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this.  
> is not a drabble. it is a oneshot. that wasn't my intention. but then bee here had to waltz in and hit me in my achilles heel (shimada heel?). so a oneshot it is. 
> 
> now excuse me while i cry over genji.

Rainy days in Gibraltar were becoming frequent. Dr. Zhou had rattled off a whole lecture about the current circumstances of climate change and all the crazy inclement weather it was causing on a global scale. Snow in Numbani? Severe lightning storms in China? By the time she walked out of the kitchens with her coffee and to-go breakfast, she was mostly talking to herself. A hell of an early-riser, that one.

The sun wasn’t even up yet, not really. But given the high altitude of the Watchpoint, muted blue light could be seen through every window as rain made paths down the panes. With most everyone else still asleep, you stood at the large atrium windows with a hot mug of tea in your hands, toes cold on the old carpet. It was silent, still, and hauntingly beautiful. You felt like the only person on earth. Hmm, you’re pretty sure there was a word for that feeling, too. Kalopsia? No, although it probably still applied in a way.

You saw the dim reflection of his lights on the glass, ears never hearing a single footstep of his approach. You knew he wasn’t trying to startle you, though. The Watchpoint was full of people who’d been through some level of hell. _No one_ wanted to trip any triggers, you were all already too familiar with the pain.

He stopped next to you, stance relaxed, like he was still tired. You sipped your tea and neither of you spoke for many long moments. It was just the sound of rain, the mist of heavy clouds fogging the glass, and a distant melody of thunder still a long ways off.

“...The sun should be coming up.” Genji’s voice was as soft as the moment and you glanced at his reflection.

“It probably is.” But you weren’t likely to see it. Not today.

As quiet settled between you again, you found your wandering thoughts drifting.

Though it should have stopped being a wonder to you at this point, Genji was an interesting man. Not in his cybernetic ligaments and motorized joints, but in his demeanor as a person. You’ve admittedly heard very little in detail about the enormity of his story, just enough to know that the man that stood next to you was the living definition of cicatrizing. How long of a life he must have lived so far. How old he must feel to still be young. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. Sometimes you burned to ask him questions. To learn more. But it was not your place to take a knife to closed wounds. If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you.

“Sixteen months.”

His voice broke your cycling thoughts and, this time, you turned your head.

“Hm?”

He remained facing the windows, visor impassive to his inner-thoughts. Yet, he didn’t hesitate to elaborate.

“Sixteen months since Winston sent out the call.”

Oh. “Has it really been that long?” You’ve only been at the Watchpoint for ten months yourself, after a life-changing encounter with one very clever scientist.

“...Sometimes I wonder if we are really making a difference.”

You were surprised to hear him say that. Too surprised to process your own words before they tumbled out of your mouth.

“Of course we are.” His head finally tilted towards you. “Change takes time, some more than others.” You looked wistfully back out into the rain, but Genji remained looking at you. “In areas of nuclear fallout, the earth becomes radiated and diseased. It can take more decades than scientists can feasibly predict for the radiation to clear, for the earth to heal itself. But it gets there. And we will get there, too.”

Once you were finished, you realized that was all probably a very obvious thing to say. Genji was far from stupid.

You embarrassment, however, was interrupted by the soft sound of his laugh.

“You sound just like my master.”

“Tekartha Zenyatta, you mean.”

“Mm,” he nodded, yet to take his gaze from you. “I often wish he was here, though I am proud of myself for no longer needing his guidance the way I used to. ...I am glad you are here, though.”

The air of the atrium felt suddenly cooler against your cheeks, and you really hoped the muted light didn’t show your flush too clearly as you offered him a small smile in return.

“I’m glad to be here.”

 

\---

 

“And _this_ is the rec room! It wasn’t a rec room before, I think it was an old conference room. But we only need the one, so it was converted. Now everyone has a place to relax together while we’re here.”

The smile on Lena’s face could not have been any wider. You’re pretty sure her face would begin to rip if she tried. It was a lovely sight, though, watching her parade excitedly around the Watchpoint and show off her girlfriend. Emily was already familiar to some, it seemed. But there were a few new faces who had the delight of meeting her. Yourself included.

“Ah, such sweet, young love.”

You were sitting next to Reinhardt on one of the couches, books in both of your laps. It surprised you that the old knight was a reader, until you’d translated his book titles one day out of curiosity. They were mostly biographies from the Omnic Wars and about the Crusaders.

“Have you met Emily?” The large man leaned down a bit to look at you with his good eye.

“I have. Lena zipped her through my lab this morning during her tour. A lovely woman. I understand that they’ve been together a long time.”

“I’m impressed Lena waited so long to bring her out here.”

Both you and Reinhardt turned to find Genji sitting on your far left side, where he had not been previously. He looked very comfortable now, though.

Following himself up with, “she probably wanted time to put some distance from the immediate danger of being arrested for re-engaging in Overwatch activity.”

“Yes, we’re all very lucky Petras was voted out of the UN when he was.”

“That rat bastard,” Reinhardt grumbled, turning back to his book.

Genji scooted just a little bit closer to you on the couch. “What are you reading?”

You chuckled in mild embarrassment. “It’s… a classic. It’s called _Love in the Time of Cholera_. Have you ever read it?”

“I have not. I have never been an avid reader, but my brother preferred it. Are you enjoying it?”

“I am, I’ve actually read it before, but it’s been a few years.”

“I see love is on more than just Lena’s mind today.”

You turned to Reinhardt in surprise to find him smiling somewhat mischievously down at the pair of you.

“It’s a classic,” you emphasized, praying he didn’t mention the heat rising in your cheeks at his implication. You did not need some old crusader pointing out in front of the whole room what you were adamantly refusing to admit to even yourself.

“It is not unusual to read love stories so close to Valentine’s Day,” Genji kindly defended. You’d had no idea Valentine’s Day was coming up, but you nodded along like you had. “And you have no room to talk, Reinhardt, I’ve seen your collection of rom-co--”

“Alright!” It was Reinhardt’s turn to blush, laughing with a shake of his head. “Mein Gott, is that the time? I promised young Brigitte we’d run through drills this afternoon. Please excuse me.”

As you were watching him leave, Genji leaned over and whispered, “I thought Brigitte was off-base with her father this week.”

“She is.”

 

\---

 

It rained again on Valentine’s Day. A heavy rain, this time, one that drenched the earth in grey skies and the heavy patter on roofs was a constant symphony. You, personally, loved it. Others on base? Not so much.

Only about half of you were even present. Most of the designated field agents were presently in a different hemisphere, working on a tip Fareeha had received from an old friend at Helix Security. You were left on base with mostly new faces. Like the MEKA pilot from Korea who’d joined a few months prior. She’d planted herself in front of the rec room television with a game and plenty of snacks. You had tried to sit with her and keep up, but got quickly lost in her jargon and all the quick movement. Instead, you wandered to the kitchens to try your hand at something you hadn’t done in ages. Baking.

Now, you were no pastry chef, you barely passed as a suitable enough cook, but you _knew_ how to make brownies. There was no better way to fulfill your own guilty pleasure than by making yourself a whole pan… and then eating all of it.

The rain was melodious companion on its own, but you deigned to add some soft music to the mix while you worked. You'd just finished putting them into the oven when someone else walked in.

“I smell chocolate.”  

You didn't normally freeze at the sight of Genji, but you'd also never seen him without his helm on. Like, any of it. His face and hair were perfectly visible, scars and synthetic jaw included. You'd wondered for a while how much of his body was still organic.

“You're making chocolate?”

You snapped out it with a blink, a small voice in your head informing you that he was _very cute_ as it fled to the back of your mind.

“Brownies, actually.” You smiled, acting as though you saw his face all the time. It thrilled you to know he was comfortable enough with you to show it. It would crush you to spoil that. “If you stick around, you can have one fresh when they're done?”

His dark eyes lit up and he quickly took a seat at the counter, making you chuckle. Two glasses of milk were fetched before you joined him.

“I have not had homemade brownies in a very long time.”

“I've haven't made them in ages, so don't get your hopes too high.”

You shared a laugh.

“Are you,” Genji hesitated a bit, “making them for someone special?”

“Hm?” You tilted your head in question.

“I believe it is Valentine's Day.” The vents on his shoulders popped open with a soft hiss while he shyly looked away.

You chuckled lightly with a shake of your head. “Just making them because I feel like it. Why, are _you_ making something for someone special?”

It seemed like such a harmless question until a pink flush rose in his cheeks and his gave the counter top a wistful smile.

“I'd like to.”

Something faintly… sour dropped from your heart to your stomach, but your expression remained neutral outside of a brief downward tick at the corners of your mouth. _Of course_ he has someone he likes. Not everyone was a habitual loner with a complete inability to admit when they had a crush, like you.

“Well,” you swallowed the bitterness in your throat, “What do you have planned?”

He ran his fingers carefully through the already-ruffled crop of hair on his head, more shy than you'd ever seen him as he leaned on the counter.

“It's not really a plan. I'm better at thinking in the moment, you know?”

“I _have_ noticed that you're quick on your feet, yes.”

He turned his head to you with a smile, clearly pleased with the compliment. It was a beautiful sight and you hoped you weren't going red. No wonder he kept his helm on all the time, he was breathtaking.

“I'm… sure you'll come up with something great, Genji.”

“I hope so. I really, _really_ want them to like me.”

“Who wouldn't?”

The timer on the oven beeped, giving you a good reason to turn away for a moment and mentally slap yourself for saying that out loud.  With two oven mitts, you removed the brownies to check their insides with a toothpick. While you were still turned away, you cleared your throat, trying to sound casual, still.

“So are you going to keep it a secret, or can I ask who it is?” WHY did you say that? You didn't actually want to know! “Or maybe I can guess?”

You turned to place a cooling rack on the counter, brownies atop. Genji looked flustered again, so you took a wild stab in the dark.

“Lets see, you've been spending a fair amount of time with Miss Vaswani recently.”

“Ah-that--, she is just helping with a few upgrades. The rotation motors in my left shoulder have been slowing down.”

Oh thank heavens.

“Hmm. You train a lot with Fareeha.”

“She's like a sister to me.”

“You and Lúcio get on well.”

“Everyone is friends with Lúcio, he is very friendly. ...I'm also a fan.”

You began cutting the brownies into squares with another thoughtful hum.

“...Bastion?”

“Ba--” Genji snorted a loud laugh, rocking back in his seat. “It's you!”

Your knife froze. Well, your everything froze as Genji's laughter sobered, like he realized what he said.

“...What?”

Dark eyes locked onto yours for a small eternity, Genji righting himself in his seat.

“It's you,” he repeated, softer but with no less confidence.

The words finally processed and you snapped up straight with a quick gasp, mitt covering half your face.

“Is that… alright?” A faint uncertainty began to color his tone, but you quickly nodded your head, too flustered to speak. Holy shit, was this really happening?

“I like you, too.” Your voice was heavily muffled into the oven mitt, eyes squeezed shut. You didn't see Genji climb gracefully over the counter to your side. So the gentle touch of cool fingers grazing up your arms made you both jump and shiver.

He said your name softly, in a voice meant just for you.

“Can I see you, please?”

Embarrassed at your own behavior, you lowered the mitt, shyly meeting his gaze. Genji smiled at you so softly that your knees felt weak.

“Are you certain this is okay?”

“Yes,” you squeezed out with more quick nods, raising a chuckle out of him.

“I'm glad.”

His hands came to rest just shy of your shoulders, eyes searching yours for any sign that you did not desire his closeness or touch. But you did desire it, you craved it. So, hands trembling slightly, you raised your arms around his waist and stepped closer into an embrace.

His body armor was hard, with more than a few sharper edges, but you hugged him regardless. In seconds, he was melting into you, holding you tight. A deep, happy sigh ruffled your hair and you couldn't help but echo it. Yeah his edges were hard, but his body was warm. And the way he cradled you in his arms was gentle, like he cherished you.

You tilted your face up to look at him, this time getting a close view of his scars. They were definitely old, but most were still pink and somewhat raised. There were so many of them. A few even cut through his upper lip, a contrast to his smooth, synthetic lower one. Was only the skin synthetic?

Your nose gently bumped his, not realizing you’d leaned in closer. He was meeting you halfway, though, eyes slipping nearly closed.

“Ha, gross.”

The skin on your shoulders jumped, both of you turning to the young woman who’d wandered into the kitchen while you had been so caught up in each other.

You flushed brightly. “Miss Song, I, uh, didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously, and I keep telling you, just call me Hana.” She smiled knowingly at the two of you, arms crossed over her chest. “I was summoned by the smell of chocolate. Are those for everyone? Or just your battery-operated boyfriend?”

You flustered more, aborting a few sentences before they could train-wreck passed your lips. Genji watched your struggle with clear delight, still holding you to his chest.

“You, you can have one if you’d like, Miss-- Hana.”

“Sweet.”

She scooped up one of the cut squares and tossed up a peace sign on her way back out the door. Genji chuckled lightly as you buried your face into his shoulder with a groan, giving your back a light rub.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” You were embracing someone you cared for deeply, of course you were alright.

“May we continue?” He asked it softly, like he was giving you the option to say no if you wanted to.

Instead of answering, you pulled back to look at him, faint smile on your lips, then you leaned right in and kissed him. His lips were so soft, despite the scarring, and your eyes slid shut in quiet bliss as he kissed you back. It wasn’t too much, lacking need or heat. It was soft and wanting, and absolutely perfect.

You hoped your future was full of many more of them.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests are still open!


	7. See But Don't Touch Part.2 - McCree SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE CONVERSATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a request in the manner that a few of you seemed real interested in how this conversation went. so here ya go!

A week had gone by quicker than you were expecting. After a long and tedious debrief, Reyes had put together a team to hit the suspected weapon smuggling ring and they left within a day. Take them down while their guard was down. He'd taken McCree, of course. Before you could speak with him about his…  indiscretion. 

After that, work just piled up. True to his word, McCree didn't avoid you. In fact, he didn't behave at all out of the ordinary aside from chatting one-on-one a little less and a distinct lack of casual flirtation that was a hallmark of his personality. Truthfully, you were glad he wasn’t acting awkward around you. You'd been friends and frequent mission-partners for years, he really meant something to you. Maybe you were the one avoiding it.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think about it, a lot. Once your brain had rested and rebooted, you found you could recall the entire thing clearly. The wet sound of jerking himself quickly, the panted breathes and deep moans, your name like a prayer. The look on his face hadn't been one of sleazy self-gratification. He'd been enraptured. In awe.

Did McCree… have feelings for you?

Just the thought made you tingle, and absolutely terrified.

You had to talk to him. You had to know.

 

 

Despite it being passed the official curfew, you walked in your pajamas straight to McCree's door, and knocked. Oh shoot, would he even be awake? Was he on base? He had a recon mission soon, did he leave already?

The door opened with a soft hiss, McCree standing on the other side in sweatpants, hair wet as he pushed it out of his face.

“Evenin’ darlin’, what beings you over so late?” He smiled easy, as if you'd never caught him masturbating in your bed. But one good look at your face cracked his forced casualty.

“...We need to talk, Jesse.”

He gave a nod, gaze falling more to the ground than you, but he stepped aside to welcome you in. His quarters were warmer than yours, and messier. His bags were packed and ready to go on the small couch. So he was leaving soon.

“Ah, yeah, I ship out tomorrow afternoon.” He must have noticed your wandering gaze.

“How long will you be gone?”

“‘Bout a week, two at most. Guess you came at a good time.”

McCree cleared a place to sit on the couch by his gear, letting you settle on the edge of the armchair, fingers lacing together in your lap. His body language was clearly nervous, but with sagged shoulders. Like he'd mentally resigned himself to the worst outcome that could spawn from this conversation. For a brief moment you realized that, in his position, the worst outcome would probably involve the two of you never speaking again. Your stomach twisted at the thought, so you could only imagine what McCree must be feeling.

With no finesse or easing in, you went straight for the point.

“Why?”

He closed his eyes a moment, still finding himself unable to face you directly, and let go of a soul-escaping sigh.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I go to your quarters sometimes, when yer gone for long recon assignments. You've always had a way of… calmin’ me down when I get worked up over stupid shit. So when yer not here, if I get worked up I'll just go sit on yer couch for a while. Just ‘til I can calm down and go back to trainin’ without wantin’ to deck someone, yanno?”

You nodded in understanding, a little warmth blossoming in your chest.

It became harder for him to keep going, but he did.

“Now, I  _ swear _ to every holy icon this world has, that was the first time I have ever… disrespected you like that. An’I have no excuses, there's no way to excuse what I did. It was slimy--”

“Jess.”

“--and despicable. I feel like a goddamned creep for doin’ it, and I am. I'm a creep. I would do anything to make it right, but I know what I did was wrong. I'm disgusted by my own behavior, and it is killin’ me to know I did this to you.”

“ _ Jess.” _

You stared at the man with worried eyes. He was gripping his hair tight in both hands, eyes glassy when they snapped up to you. You'd never seen him so upset, or so lost. He forced himself to let go of his hair, shaky hands balling into fists on his knees. You wanted to comfort him, hold him, anything.

But your own chest was tight, heart hammering as you tried to swallow the sticky feeling in your throat.

“ _ Why _ did you do it? Please help me understand. I want to understand.”

A wounded expression struck across his face like lightning, eyes squeezing shut. You wanted to reach for his hands so badly, but you couldn't move.

Jesse let out a sharp breath and breathed in deep. He squared his shoulders and looked at you straight on.

“Because I'm in love with you.”

Air left you in a long, shaky exhale, whispering a faint, “oh thank god” to the universe.

“It doesn't excuse what I did, and if I were any sort of good man I wouldn't have given in to the temptation of--sorry, did you just say, ‘oh, thank god’?”

A soft chuckle left you, born more from pure relief than humor. “I wasn't sure what I was going to do if your reason had been anything else.”

Jesse was obviously confused, but there was a light in his eyes that dared to shine with hope that you were saying what he thought you were.

You took a moment to let it really sink in. Sure, getting off to the thought of you while laying in  _ your _ bed wasn’t his best idea. But, dammit, he actually loved you.

Jesse McCree was in love with you. A thrill of giddiness raced under your skin.

“I know you’re sorry, Jess, and I forgive you. And…” You smiled at him warmly. “I love you, too.”

You’d never known McCree to ever be at a loss for words, yet he gaped at you. Looking, for all the world, like his heart had just stopped. Then he stood up quickly. “You…”

You stood as well, right in front of him. “Love you, yes.” When it became clear that he was too in shock to make a move, you took a half-step closer and leaned up on your toes to kiss him. It was very effective in snapping him right out of his stupor. The feel of your soft lips made him weak in the knees, one kiss turning into two as he leaned into the paradise of your touch.

He tried to trail after you when you leaned back, a soft whine betraying him.

“Am I still dreamin’, or is this really happening?”

“...It is if you want it to.”

Your hands came to rest lightly on his exposed arms and trailed your fingertips down his skin, touch barely there. A shiver went through him when you brushed over his inner wrists, slipping your hands into his palms. His eyes never left yours, looking as serious as you'd ever seen him.

“I'd do anything for this, for you.”

“Anything?” You whispered.

He leaned forward enough to press his forehead to yours.

“Anything.”

When he kissed you again, it was like the heavens had finally aligned. You let him gather you close and deepen the kiss. It simmered like slow-building heat that spilled over into the rest of you. Warm hands smoothed over your back, feeling your own tremor when he softly nipped your lip. The kiss became open-mouthed and wet while your brain became warm mush. There was no rush to it. Jesse was savoring you. He wanted to learn just where to touch and kiss that would have you singing for him. He wanted to master whatever made you melt. He'd waited so long, thinking you were beyond his reach. But now that you were in his arms?

He was never letting go.

  
  
  



	8. Spiritual Exposure - Hanzo SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> swimming_in_hope: Hi : ) ! I just discovered your works and I am absolutely BEsoTTen by them. If it's possible I'd like to request a Hanzo/Reader fic wherein the Reader is a photographer who sees ghosts/spirits and decides to visit Hanamura for a tiny project. They stop by Rikimaru one night and cue Hanzo goes in and the Reader is doing double takes because damn he looks shady and tired--and why the hell are there tiny glowing twin dragons around his arms?? Then Hanzo mistakes the Reader as some mercenary out to get him because of all the suspicious staring.
> 
> I don't know AHAH, thought it would be fun : )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i loved this idea! so much so that i kind of went a little crazy in the world-building aspect, so i hope the beginning isn't too set-up heavy! i feel like it's a good start to what could be a really great story and i'm satisfied with this (oneshot. it's another oneshot. the shimadas are my weakness, how dare you. please don't ever stop)
> 
> enjoy!

On paper, you were famous. At least, that's what the gallery manager and your bank account claimed. In person, you were just another kid wandering the streets with a camera around your neck. Although calling you a kid still was probably becoming generous. You didn't want fame, you just wanted to keep working without being bothered. You'd refused to sign a single contract because of it. You'd keep your independence, and anonymity, if it killed you. It was easier to work that way. 

You couldn't exactly pinpoint where in your memory it started happening. You had faint recollections from your childhood of seeing lights no one else could, hearing voices that weren't really there. But the first time you used a camera, your entire world changed.

No one else you knew could see the spirits. You'd met people who claimed they could see and communicate with ghosts, but what you were seeing was entirely different. They were funny creatures, made of light and darkness alike. Some were humanoid, but most resembled otherworldly creatures. Swift, six-legged hounds and flying, swirling centipedes. Some lingered around humans and omnics for whatever reason, while some preferred solitude.

And the photos? They captured every dream-like detail in vivid definition. Better than what you could see with your eyes. Of course, no one else could see them. Not in person, or the photographs. You'd tried for years to developed a lens that could even begin to etch their beauty into the material plane. It never worked, but the gallery manager still praised your work, calling it “hauntingly mesmerizing.” You're pretty convinced that your work isn't actually that good. That, even though others can't see the spirits, they still feel the effect of being in the presence of them. Paid your bills either way, though.

Being independent with more money than you knew what to do with, you traveled the world freely. Different countries had wildly different spirits and you wanted to see as many as you could.

Your first trip to Japan had been opportunistic, and you'd spent all four days in Tokyo. That city was brighter than anything you'd ever seen, a cloud of spirits floating constantly overhead. You'd had to wear sunglasses at night sometimes, to the bewilderment of many locals.

You'd planned your second trip for four weeks, intending to travel through big cities and rural towns alike. So far, it had been worth it. Japan had some  _ very _ interesting spirits. Web-winged umbrellas and floating cyclops heads. You're pretty sure you saw a wall move.

Hanamura was somewhere between big city and traditional town. What caught your eye the most, though, was a distinct… lack of spirits. Bright ones, anyway. Something long and dark skittered past your feet at the train station when you arrived. The most brights you'd found were in the local arcade, hanging around the machines. They were small, floating motes in various colors. They didn't seem to have much consciousness.

And if Hanamura was odd, Shimada Castle was the weirdest place there. You couldn't get within a few feet of its walls. Something about it physically repelled you, and it wasn't just the guards in suits. During the day, you thought you could spot the top of something hazy and thickly dark moving around on the other side of the walls, taller than any spirit you'd ever encountered. It was a strange feeling, but you knew that place was damaged. Was that why the local spirits had fled?

Oddly enough, nighttime was much more comfortable. There were fewer people, but the night masked the dark spirit and you felt better  _ not _ seeing it.

Petals from the cherry trees lined every street and gutter, decorating even the city's cracks with something lovely. You couldn't help thinking that a city so pretty would look even better with its spirits wandering around, too. Hanamura probably had some fairly playful ones, once.

Another thing you really enjoyed about Japan was the heckin’ delicious food. The quality of everything was so much nicer than you were used to. Ramen shops were small heavens to your night-crawling habits, and Rikimaru had become your go-to. Thankfully, Hanamura had one. So, after hours on your feet (knees, stomach, sides, and back), you popped in and ordered a bowl of “the best ramen in the world” with a soda through the universal language of pointing at the sign and smiling. The lady at the counter smiled cheerfully back, prattling off whatever pleasantries she was required to say. You assumed. Your Japanese left a lot of room for improvement.

You put your camera bag and camera down on an empty portion of the bar, which was most of it, and let the steam of the broth warm your face. As you started to eat, you glanced around in curiosity, natural people watcher as you were. There was a man in a rumpled suit at one counter, looking to be falling asleep sitting up. One of those fabled office workers on his way home, most likely. An omnic sat quietly in the corner, reading. As you started looking around to your other side, a man pulled out a stool at the same counter as you, but on the far end, four seats between you.

His posture was also one of exhaustion, even his top knot looked a little droopy. He leaned a cello case against the wall, then left to collect his food. You pointed your attention back to your bowl and ate in silence, mentally going over a few more places you wanted to explore before you moved on to the next town.

It wasn't long before something caught you eye. Had Hanamura not been so barren of spirits, it might not have drawn your attention, not right away.

Something blue moved at the corner of your eyes, bright and glowing. You almost choked on your noodles.

Spirits always looked unusual, and though they resembled real animals in some way, they had never looked like  _ that _ before. Because you were staring at a small, serpentine  _ dragon. _ Like, illustrations you see in children's books, ye old Japanese DRAGON.

It was on the ground at the cello man's feet, coiled around the stool legs, crouched and focused on a little, yellow mote that floated just off the floor. The fluff on the end of its tail flicked back and forth, thumping cello man's boot.

You were gaping, watching it as intently as it watched the mote float aimlessly. Another flicker of blue grabbed your attention, and you looked up to find a  _ second _ dragon, almost identical to the first. This one was on the counter by the man’s food while he ate. Just sitting, like dragons belonged on food counters.

The man himself didn’t bat a single eyelash. He likely had no idea a pair of twin dragons were chilling with him while he ate.

Sharp eyes suddenly shot a look your way, brows furrowed, so you put your attention back on your food, trying not to fluster. It was hard. As equally hard as not snatching your camera up and immediately taking as many pictures as you could. Considering cello man’s expression, you didn’t think he’d appreciate you asking to take photos of him in your very limited, broken Japanese. Shoot. What to do, what to do.

Against your better judgement, your eyes were drawn back to the dragon on the floor. Just in time for it to snap at the mote. Not eat it, though. The mote didn’t react, so the dragon sniffed it. Your hand twitched a little closer to your camera.

You shoved a huge mouthful of noodles in with your chopsticks, trying to concentrate on your food before it went cold.

It was no use, of course. The dragon on the counter moved to lay in a half-circle around cello man’s bowl and you looked over. He ate on indifferently. Now that you were looking at him, he looked more tired than you thought. Not just day-weary, but soul-weary. His clothes were casual and weather appropriate, mostly black, and his bridge piercing was pretty cool. At first it seemed out of place on the serious set of his expression, but it was growing on you.

The dragon stretched lazily, drawing your attention back to it. Gods, you wanted to take a photo  _ so badly. _

In your staring, the dragon noticed that you noticed it. Which was a complete first that took you by surprise. You met it’s glowing eyes and it perked up, then sat up, head tilting. The man cleared his throat loudly and gave you a firm, pointed look.

No spirit had ever reacted to you before in more than a passive way. But as you tried to sip your soda, you could see the dragon inching along the counter, closer to you. Holy crap. You couldn’t stop yourself, let one lone man in a ramen shop at midnight think of you as rude, you didn’t care. You slowly picked up your camera. The dragon shifted into a sitting position, still watching you watch it. You pretended for a moment like you were going to take a picture of your half-eaten food while you adjusted the settings. Then you turned smoothly, focused, and snapped. The dragon sat up more, extending its body as you leaned forward and sunk over the counter to get a better angle, continuously snapping shot after shot while you had the chance.

You expected cello man to react more angrily, but in the background of your photos, he simply put his chopsticks down, finished his tea in a big gulp, then stood to grab his cello case. Both dragons reacted, turning quickly to him, like they were being called. Cello man turned his back to you and both dragons climbed onto his shoulders, phasing away into shimmering blue light over his left arm. Quickly, he left.

You pulled up the gallery on your camera reviewing what you managed to get. The detail was breathtaking. Oh these were definitely worth hanging around in a mostly spiritless city for the day. Thrilled, you removed the lens and packed the whole camera away, finishing your own dinner with a smile.

You were the last patron to leave the shop, giving the nice counter girl a bow and a shy “arigatou.” You were staying in a small inn several blocks east of the arcade, you just hoped you could find your way there in the dark. It wasn’t the dark that worried you, but your own memory. Landmarks looked different in the dark, it always gave you a bit of trouble when you were travelling.

The arcade was quiet and mostly dark. Lights from some of the games were still on, but it was closed tight for the night. As you passed, you noticed most of the motes were crowding around the machines who’s lights were still on, giving them an alien vibe. It was nice. You paused, considering whether or not a photo was worth taking your camera back out.

It was in the moment of pause that you were grabbed from behind, and tossed into an adjoining alley, landing hard on the pavement, Pain flared through every joint that hit the ground. It knocked you a little funny for a moment, confused as the world righted itself enough for you to try pushing yourself up.

“The hell…”

“You are either very confident in your abilities, or extremely foolish.” A deep, heavily accented voice made you jump. Holy crap, were you getting mugged?

Your head throbbed, but you looked around for whoever grabbed you and gasped. It was the cello man. Only he didn’t have a cello, he had a bow, and a scowl. You realized more slowly that there was also an arrow pointed directly at your head.

You raised both hands in surrender, shaking. “You can have my money, just please don’t take my camera.”

“ _ Do not _ take me for a fool!”

“Ah-I'm sorry!” Panic and instinct were starting to take over your body. You grabbed your fallen camera bag and tried to scramble away. But something whistled by your ear and the arrow embedded itself deeply into concrete in front out you. Ho-ly  _ fuck _ .

A boot kicked you over, sending sharp pain through your ribs and making you cry out. You refused to let go of your camera bag, curling up around it.

“Who are you working for?” His voice boomed and you flinched.

“N-no one!”

“Liar!”

“I'm not!”

“ _ Who are you working for!” _

“The Chicago Exposure Gallery!”

He took pause.

You stayed on the ground, shivering as you protected your bag with your whole body. The man growled, pulling his second arrow back harder.

“Why did you photograph me?”

You shook your head, tears burning your eyes. “I wasn't--”

“Lying, still!”

“The dragons! I was taking photos of the dragons!”

He went silent. You'd squeezed your eyes shut, unable to see his expression. So his boots thumping on the ground made you jump. You peeked up to find him standing over you, arrowhead inches from your face.

His voice came out low and dangerous. “Prove it.”

Prove it? Shaking terribly, you loosened your hold on your bag, unzipping it to pull your camera out and bring up the gallery.

Sure, he was  _ in _ the photos, but out of focus in the back. The subject was clearly the blue dragon tilting its head curiously at the lens.

To you. Because you could see it. But you knew he wouldn't be able to, and tears slipped down your face as you faced the screen towards him.

His silence lasted so long, The only sound in the alley was of you stifling your crying. You heard the tension of his bow string tighten… then slowly relax. Through bleary eyes, you watched him stow the arrow away and sling the bow over his shoulder.

He kneeled down over you, far too close for your sanity considering he'd just threatened you at arrowpoint. When he snatched the camera out of your hands, however, you snapped out of your complacency.

“Hey!”

You tried surging up to snatch it back, but he just shoved you back down and leaned a knee onto you chest to pin you there. He was  _ much _ stronger than you, and heavy.

He flipped through your photos, a crease of confusion between his eyebrows, mumbling to himself in Japanese.

“You are able to see the dragons, how? You are not even of this region, much less of my family.”

That took you off-guard, leaving you wordless under him. He looked at you in irritation for your lack of explanation and you swallowed hard, trying to work your vocal chords.

“I, I just… see them. I don't know.” Could he see spirits, too? “You--”

“Of course I see them, they are mine.”

He removed his knee and replaced it with your camera, moving away. You hesitated, body aching when you pushed up.

“...The dragons?”

“Yes, the dragons. To what else would I be referring?”

It was probably rhetorical, but you quickly scanned through you gallery for the deer-like spirits you'd seen all over Hokkaido. They were bright purple and magnificent. He glanced at the photo, then at you, expression blank. So he couldn't…

“You only see the dragons, then,” you couldn't help the edge of disappointment in you tone, despite the man assaulting you. He gave you a strange look, then stepped closer. You flinched away at the first step and he paused. From that angle, he looked at the screen again, tilting his head.

“Do you see more than dragons?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice. You nodded silently, turning the camera off again.

Clearing your throat, you stashed it away. “Tonight was the first time I've seen dragons.”

Standing hurt like hell. All your joints ached from landing on the pavement, ribs still burning. You watched the man warily, unsure of what was going to happen now but filled with so many questions.

Another odd expression crossed the man’s face, something that resembled the deepest sadness you’d ever seen, but it was there and gone in a mere second.

“They will likely be the only dragons you shall ever see.”

“So they are…” You started before you could catch yourself. He didn’t scowl again or turn away, though, waiting for you to finish. “They  _ are _ dragons? Real dragons? I thought dragons were something people made up.”

He seemed to consider your question.

“You claim to see more than dragons, yet the existence of dragons surprises you?”

“Uh…” You guess?

The man mumbled something in Japanese and looked away. Blue light hazed around his left arm before the two glowing serpents coiled out. They jumped to the ground and bounded right over to you. One scampered up your clothes quickly, making you yelp and almost drop your bag. You could feel the prick of claws on your clothes, it’s weight as it wound over your shoulders. It’s breath as it looked you nose to nose, right into it’s depthless eyes. You were afraid to move, was it judging you? Was that something dragons did? You knew nothing about dragons!

A soft sound left it’s mouth just before a thin, slimy tongue flicked against your chin. The dragon still on the ground echoed the noise and started winding around your feet, sniffing at your legs.

“What--” The first moved out of your face, snuffling through your hair and nipping at your ears. “Hey!”

“Ah,” was all the man said.

“Ah, what? What are they doing?”

“...They like you.” He looked like he didn’t know how to feel about that.

The dragons continued to explore your clothing, but when they got too curious about your camera bag is when you tried shooing them away. They didn’t shoo easy.

“Can you please ask them to stop?” You were in a tug-of-war, one dragon pulling on the bag strap, the other pulling on your shirt collar. They were strong creatures.

The man said something in Japanese again and both dragons reluctantly let go of you. It took a second command for the one on your shoulders to jump down, leaving you flustered and with scratch marks on your neck and shoulders.

“Thank you.”

“Mm, we should go. It is not wise to linger in this area.”

Bow man turned his back on you, looking out of the alley cautiously. You expected him to slip away like smoke, he seemed the type. But he paused and turned back you.

“Are you coming?”

  
  
  
  



	9. Puppy Love - Gabriel NSFW-ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wowe: Heyyyyyy.  
> One request is gabe x reader where he just helps them after surgery. I think it would be so cute and fluffy. Or maybe the reader/gabe is on laughing gas and how they react to seeing eachother/ other things.
> 
> But another one if that's not your cup of tea how about a reunion between reaper and reader after the explosion they have not quite moved on but when they see each other again its hella rad.  
> I'm in a fluff mood Haha.  
> Or maybe a werewolf au with any character idk. And how a normal human would help there werewolf SO Werewolves are cool and there is not enough stuff like that.  
> Ahhh thanks for considering any of these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you had me at "gabe" and "werewolf au" (were-hellhound?)
> 
> here is some good dog content

“Don't give me that look, this is _your_ fault.”

The ground around your cabin was muddy, slick leaves scattered around the yard. There were a few deep gouges in the mud, matching the trees scattered a few yards out. One tree was completely splintered at the base and was only being supported by the tree next to it. For however long that would last. Amidst the mess, sat a dog.

Perhaps that was misleading.

In the middle of the yard sat an enormous hound, nearly the size of a car. Normally coal-black fur was matted with mud, and glowing red eyes watched you sadly. A pathetic whine escaped his throat, ears flattening to his head.

You, however, were completely unfazed. From where you stood blocking entrance through the back door, you pointed to the side of the cabin, finality in your tone.

“Hose off.”

The hound whined louder, bowing his head to the ground, feet moving restlessly in his version of a puppy-tantrum.

“You can have a proper bath _after_ you hose off, Gabriel.”

Dramatically, the hound threw himself onto his side, huffing and groaning like he was dying. Instead of caving, you walked back inside and locked the door. It only took seconds to hear his claws.

“No scratching!”

The hound howled, long and forlorn. You rolled your eyes hard.

“We’re not arguing about this again! If you hose off, I'll go start your bath!”

There was a pause and another whine, growing fainter as he walked away.

Satisfied that you managed to wrangle your boyfriend quicker than usual, you kept your end of the bargain and headed towards the bathroom.

It had taken Gabe and two of his pack members to move the massive bathtub into the cabin. But what Gabriel wanted, Gabriel got. And he wanted a huge tub. It was basically a Jacuzzi.

Once the water was turned on and heaters adjusted, you started picking out his favorite oils and salts. Honestly, he had far too much bathing salt. No one needs that many, not even someone who turns into a dog on a regular basis.

The wet slap of feet on the floor informed you that he was sufficiently clean enough to come back indoors.

“You better not have left a water trail through the house--ah!”

 _Cold_ arms pushed your shirt up and wrapped firmly around your midsection, lifting you off your feet.

“Gabe, you're cold!”

“Yeah, because _someone_ made me use the hose.”

Without waiting for another complaint, Gabriel fell into the half-full tub, taking you with him. Still dressed. The two of you fit with room to spare. As soon as his arms loosened, you sat up and splashed water into his grinning face. It didn't bother him in the slightest. He relaxed back with a sigh, hands behind his head. You pushed wet hair back from your face.

“Thanks for the dunk, hunk. But I'm already clean.”

“Ah-ah.” As soon as you tried to climb out of the tub, Gabriel snatched you back down, pulling you against his naked chest and nipping your ear. “Bathe with me, I missed you.”

“I'm still dressed!” Your protest was undermined by your giggling though. Your ears were ticklish and he knew it!

His voice changed to a deep, pleased rumble as he raised a hand to grope your chest through your soaked shirt, looking for a nipple to pinch. Your giggling turned into a breathless gasp.

“I can take care of that.”

He was already hard, you felt it against your thigh and your core began heating up. You didn't want to give in so easily, but _damn_ his sex drive.

“I thought you wanted to get clean.”

Gabe pulled you into a deep kiss, faint smile on his lips and a look of wild love in his eyes.

“Let's get dirty first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh right. you can follow me on twitter if you want: @seamobeemo


	10. Fighting Dirty - Morrison SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 00Hasha00: I loved how you did my request.So cute so warm so not enough for my greedy soul.❤️❤️✨❤️   
> Soooooooooo  
> How about p2 of Sfw Dad!Jack (anything with him will make me go wild) or some genji sfw or nsfw with him being a weeb(and he tries to hide it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am all about this dad76 au, keep 'um coming!
> 
> oh, and there's somewhat implied McReader in this. kinda.

“No, and that's final.”

Typically, when Jack was sitting behind his desk in full gear, completely in the Strike Commander head-space, and he said those words, it was the end of the conversation. No room for objections, it was done, over.

Typically, the person standing on the other side of his desk getting shot down was an agent, an officer, sometimes even Gabe.

Today it was you, his only child. The one he'd pulled out of a wrecked building during the war and had been raising ever since. The light of his life. His motivation to keep going when things got tough.

You looked down your cute nose at him, crossed your arms and asked, “why?”

Yikes.

“Because I said so.”

“That's not a reason, dad.”

You weren't backing down, it was honestly starting to throw him off. What was worse was that Ana was sitting on the couch, sipping tea, and smirking to herself. Clearly enjoying every step of this train wreck.

You tapped your foot once, huffing. “Is it because you don't want me to go to the Overwatch formal with a boy? Or because you don't want me to go with  _ Jesse _ .”

Yikes.

“Why don't you go with Fareeha? You went together last year.”

“And this year, Jesse asked me. I'd very much like to say yes.”

“He's too old for you.”

“He's only four years older! And I'm not asking to date him!  _ It's just the formal. _ ”

You were quickly becoming exasperated in that way only teenagers could when facing a stubborn parent. You even stamped your foot. Which was usually adorable to Jack. At the moment though, he could only think about  _ you _ and  _ Jesse McCree _ dancing together at the formal. Jack's precious child, smiling and carefree while Jesse fucking McCree had his hands on you. No. Absolutely not. He trusted Fareeha way more. Fareeha wasn't handsy.

Jack took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and tapping into his deepest, most authoritative tone.

“I said no.”

Your eyes narrowed, obviously not intimidated, and you took two steps closer to the desk between you, leaning in slightly.

“Fight me.”

Ana really,  _ really  _ tried to keep her composure, but the taken aback look on Jack's face had her cackling. He quickly flushed, trying harder to ignore her.

“What?”

“ _ Fight me. _ If I win, I'm going to the formal with Jesse. If you win, I'll go with whoever you want. Even you. Deal?”

You had to be joking. Jack was… much bigger than you. His strength was literally super human. You knew this, he was your dad. But the look on your face was deathly serious. Just how badly did you want to go to the formal with McCree? That thought had Jack tightening his jaw.

Fine.

“Deal.”

 

  
  
You picked training room C. It was mostly used by officers, no cadets around to watch their Strike Commander spar with someone half his size. Not that this was your first spar together, he'd been training you himself. Which gave him an even bigger advantage. He knew your strengths and your weaknesses. He knew that you always had a habit of dropping your left guard when you saw a good time to strike, and your eyes were a dead giveaway for what you were going to do next. He’d trained you to take on opponents bigger than yourself, sure, but in all your years going against him, you’d never won. This felt woefully unfair.

But to keep you out of McCree’s arms, Jack was prepared to end it quickly.

You faced each other in the ring painted on the mat, Ana having agreed to play referee. Jack rolled his shoulders and held his hand out.

“I win, and you’re going to the formal with your old man.”

You shook his hand firmly, all business. “I win, and I go with whoever I want.”

Ana raised a hand as you both settled into your starting positions. “First one knocked out of the ring is the loser. Ready?... Fight!”

You sized each other up first, just like Jack taught you. A few testing punches were thrown and dodged. Then Jack went in for the metaphorical kill. He rushed right at you, all weight and power, grabbing your collar in both hands, prepared to just toss you out of the ring.

However, he was not prepared for the quick foot that planted itself just behind his, or the elbows knocking into his, breaking his hold. But the momentum was still there, and you used that foot to break Jack’s balance as you sank to your back and rolled him right over you. Quick and easy.

You looked shocked at first, like you couldn’t believe that just worked. Jack was pretty much a perfect mirror.

“Yeah!” You crowed, rolling back onto your feet, leaving your dad on the mat wondering what the hell just happened.

“Great form, kid.” Gabriel’s voice carried as he approached in his PT clothes. McCree was with him, looking more than a little impressed. Gabe clapped you on the shoulder, grinning wide at Jack, who was still on the floor. “You didn’t hesitate that time. I’m prouda you.”

You spun around to greet him with a wide grin. “Thanks, Uncle Gabe.”

“No problem, kid. Go with Jesse, he’ll show you that move we were talking about last week.”

Jack watched you light up and jump to kiss Gabe on the cheek.

When you’d walked away, Jack grumbled, “what did you do?”

“I’ve just been showing them a few moves in the ring. You know, how to fight the Blackwatch way. It’s good to be well-rounded, Jackie.”

Jack let Gabriel pull him onto his feet, finally groaning in defeat. Ana was grinning like a cat when she offered him some water.

“I guess you have to concede, Jack. Imagine that.”

“Concede? What’s going on?” Gabe looked back and forth between them, but Jack’s eyes were on you. He couldn’t hear what you were saying to McCree, but he could guess because the young man’s easy smile suddenly lit up brighter. He reached for the hat he wasn’t wearing and flustered when his hand met empty air, but he grinned all the while. It made him look so young, the bright-eyed way he looked at you, and Jack sighed.

Yikes.


	11. Alexithymia Part 1 - Reaper SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a small continuation of something I posted previously in my 2018 Christmas collection of oneshots, A Merry Little Christmas. The Winter Wonderland chapter with Reaper, to be precise. Same Talon scientist reader and set-up. Already intending to make it a small series.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Interesting…”

Midnight found you about the same as it always did, hunched over a microscope, scribbling notes blindly, but neatly, onto your datapad as you observed whatever new samples you happened to be working on at the time.

Presently, you were attempting to synthesize a toxin whose effects could remain dormant until triggered by an outside force.

It wasn't going well, but you were nothing if not persistent.

“What is?”

The deep, malicious voice broke the quiet of your lab and concentration so suddenly that you couldn't stop the small yelp that jolted out of you. He stood impassively behind you as you clutched your chest, slowly spinning around on your stool.

“How many times must I ask you to  _ not _ do that?”

He stared down at you through his impassive mask, standing only a few feet away.

“You never open when I knock.”

“Probably because I'm working.” Despite the bluntness of your words, they came out tired. Now that you weren't staring down a scope, exhaustion and eye strain was catching up. Reaper watched you rub your eyes vigorously, shoulders slumped.

“Was there something you needed?”

His hum was soft and short, sounding more like a grumble than anything.

“...I came to walk you home.”

Ever since Christmas, Reaper had developed a preference for being around you. It was baffling, really. Since being recruited into Talon, no one had expressed even a mild interest in being around you, much less a  _ preference _ . And you knew for a fact that it was a preference because he’d told you as much himself.

You sighed heavily, spinning back around on your stool to stare at your microscope,... then turn it off. You thought you heard him hum in approval. Once everything was saved and you’d gathered your things, the both of you left the lab together.

Reaper seemed particularly fond of walking you home. You didn’t live far from base, of course, you’d wanted to be close. Talon had taken over a block of condos only a twenty minute walk away. It was mostly officers and high-ranking scientists. And you.

You walked in relative silence. Normally, you had to fill it yourself with what was essentially a one-sided conversation. A feat, considering you weren’t a known conversationalist. So you talked about work, for lack of a better topic, and Reaper would hum or grunt every-so often to show he was listening. Sometimes he would ask questions, he would even remember things you’d said the week previous. As though he really was pay attention to you. Sometimes he even held your hand. You weren’t used to people wanting to touch you for extended periods of time. It was kind of nice.

Tonight, you initiated the contact first, pleased when he held it gently back.

It had been raining heavily earlier in the day, but the sky was clear above you as you walked with him. Neither of you were in much of a rush, taking the stroll almost leisurely.

“It must have been a lovely day,” you commented, noting broken tree branches and leaves on the sidewalk. Reaper grunted in response. “It’s a pity my lab isn’t on ground level. I do love the rain.”

He was quiet for a moment or two.

“...Do you want it to be?”

“Hm? What, tired of visiting me in the basement?” You smiled as you said it, a rare show of playfulness showing in you. Reaper was starting to have that effect on you. It was odd.

His answer was deadpan and serious. “It doesn't matter to me where your lab is. If you want one on the main floor, I'll have your things moved.”

His blunt tone didn't cover his sincerity from you. He meant it, and would probably have all of your equipment and research moved by the time you got there in the morning.

It was such a thoughtful gesture.

Squeezing his hand a little tighter, your smile softened.

“It's not necessary. I like the quiet halls. Less people means less interruptions.” Fewer scarred recruits.

He gave you a nod of understanding, and that was that.

The walk, while a bit brisk, was very refreshing; shaking loose the stale cotton of spending too long indoors from your brain. Before long, though, you hit something of a roadblock. A literal roadblock, in fact. In the form of a downed tree. It blocked the entire street, caution cones lining it with a detour sign. You frowned.

“Well this is unfortunate. That detour is likely to double the walking time.” Lacking another choice, though, you began crossing the street. But Reaper wasn't going with you, pulling you to a stop.

You looked back him, eyebrows raised.

“Is something wrong?”

He was looking at the tree, then at you.

“This way.”

Bypassing the caution cones, he came to a stop next to the cracked trunk and looking back at you expectantly.

He'd yet to give you a reason to not trust him, so far, and you were curious as to what his intention was. So you joined him.

“And now?”

You were wholly unprepared for him to pick you up, as easily as one picks up a doll or a spoon. You made a sound of surprise, hands flying to his armored shoulders. He sat you carefully on top of the tree, then collapsed into smoke that slithered up and over to the other side. Understanding, you shifted around while he reformed, trying not to get too dirty, and let him lift you back off the tree and onto your feet once more.

“Well, that was certainly an expedient solution. Well done.”

Reaper made a sound like a snort.

“Thanks.” You  _ may  _ have heard a smile in his voice. It made your heart thump awfully loud.

 

You verbally went over some of your notes from memory for the rest of the walk. There were a lot of factors involved in what you were working on, so you reminded yourself of all of them, often. (It also helped keep your mind off of the new memory of his broad hands gripping your hips, because that was making you feel tingly in a way that you were unaccustomed to.) As always, Reaper listened. The two of you made it to your doorstep in no time at all.

Fishing your keys from your pocket, you turned to give that unreadable, white mask a smile.

“Thank you, Reap--ah, Gabe, for walking me home. Again. And for letting me ramble at you.”

His head tilted just slightly, remaining on the step just below you. “Were you rambling? I didn't noticed.”

Was he jesting? You'd barely shut up. With a quick shake of your head, though, you let it go.

“Goodnight, Gabe. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded and you turned to open your door, barely catching his rough voice as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doc.”


	12. Fastball - Zenyatta NSFW-ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parappaa: i would really love to see reader/zenyatta in his baseball skin ;_; <3 sfw or nsfw are both fine ! thank you so much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for you, my consistent reader, anything. (for zenyatta, also anything)

When Zenyatta said he liked baseball, he really wasn’t kidding. Not that you thought he was. The monk had said it with so much innocent excitement in his voice that it reminded you of how young he really was. Which was so easy to forget sometimes. So when Lucio had invited all of you to join him for the Summer Games, Zenyatta had been thrilled. He’d never been to a professional baseball game, only local ones during his travels. He played in a few himself, as he cheerfully informed you.

While you didn’t share his love of the sport (or sports of any kind), you were happy to go with him. How could you not be? His joy was infectious. So while a few less sport-inclined folk remained on base to keep an eye on things, the rest of you shipped out to Brazil for the week. As it turned out, Winston was just as excited about the baseball games as Zenyatta, they could talk about the sport for hours. You were secretly glad Zen wasn’t alone in his fanaticism because you were  _ not _ good for baseball talk.

The best part, though? The very, very best part? Was the uniform.

Zenyatta wasn’t playing at the Summer Games, but he was apparently a big enough fan that he got an entire uniform for his favorite team to wear while he cheered them on. Not just a jersey, pants and cleats, too. He even temporarily traded out his harmony orbs for nine Basetech baseballs.

...You were in heaven.

Something about that uniform was just doing things to you. Maybe it was because he rarely wore anything other than his monk habits, or it was the silhouette of his waist, or the way the pants made his narrow, robotic ass just look  _ umph _ . You weren’t a fan of baseball, but you were a fan of your boyfriend in that uniform.

“You are staring again. Are you certain it looks alright?”

“Uh-huh.” You were absolutely staring. In the privacy of your hotel room, no one could stop you. Zenyatta was trying the uniform on again (probably in eager anticipation), so you lounged on the bed and just enjoyed the show. “I can stop staring if you’d like, but I’m really enjoying this.”

“Hm? You are?”

Zenyatta turned from the mirror with a tilt of his head, like he wasn’t sure how. So you slid off the bed.

“It looks good on you, Zen.” You plucked the team hat from his head, placing it on your own with a look in your eyes that had the monk making a small sound of understanding. He let you push him to sit on the edge of the bed, hands resting on your hips when you settled yourself on his lap. “ _ Really good. _ ”

“And I thought you didn’t like baseball.” There was a tease in his voice.

“No,” you agreed, “but I like you.”

“In uniform?” He added on; a low, synthetic purr edging his words.

“Apparently.”

He let you press loving kisses all over his face, happy to receive each one. You lips were warm and your adoration was clear. It had taken the two of you many conversations, mutual research, and a few awkward tries, to establish a sex life that worked for the both of you. One you  _ both _ got something out of. While Zenyatta hadn’t thought to pack the fun  _ attachment _ the two of you had bought from an online shop catering to human/omnic relationships, he was still confident in his ability to satisfy you.

“Is it putting you in the mood to pitch or catch, my dear?”

A giggle broke out of you and you kissed him square where his lips would be if he had them.

“Catching.”

“As you wish.”

Zenyatta gently pressed his forehead to yours, knocking the hat back a bit. You closed your eyes and cleared your mind, waiting for the warm probing sensation of his spirit connecting to yours.

“Your pleasure is my pleasure,” he said softly. It wasn’t just sentiment, either. When Zen connected himself to you, you both found he could experience euphoria  _ with _ you. So you surrendered to the warm, golden haze; your skin coming alive to sensation on a completely different level.

The smooth pads of his fingertips traced over your stomach and sides as he pushed your shirt up and off. It knocked the hat from your head completely and you tossed the garment into a corner to be forgotten. The hard rubber of his palms felt like heaven as they smoothed over your ribs to cup at your chest, and you gasped softly.

“So eager, today.” There was a smile in his voice, and those clever fingers snatched a retort right off your lips when they pinched your nipples, giving a soft tug. “Do you wish to stay atop of me? Or would you rather I have my way with you as I see fit?”

A shiver laced quickly up your spine, his words punctuated by a sharper tug on your nipples, twisting the nubs pleasantly and making you moan. You could already feel the wet spot forming in your underwear.

“Say something, my dear.”

Your face bloomed with heat, a single word mewling passed your lips, “yours.”

  
  



	13. Hot Toddy - Moira SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nexanda: Ok so why the world hates me I'll never know bit I've become super sick q.q lying in bed re-reading these stories hoping to be better or trying to at least q.q would it be possible for a Moira/reader with Moira seeing the sickly/ flu induced reader still come to work and yells at to get home but reader refuses to because theyre stubborn and wants to work but moira tries to help reader feel better with some good old soup and tucking into bed if they listen to her? ♡♡ many thanks again ♡♡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to hear you're sick! this is short bc i banged it out fast haha, but i hope you feel better soon!

“What do you think you’re doing?”

It took an embarrassingly long time for the voice, and the meaning of the words, to register through the thick cloud of congestion that had taken up residence in your head. When they did, you turned away from the monitor you were squinting at, blinking your scratchy eyes at the tall woman who frowned at you from the doorway.

“I’m entering last night’s data into the files, Doctor O’Deorain.” As soon as your sentence was through, wet coughs overtook you for a moment. Thankfully, you were wearing a face mask to prevent the spreading of your germs.  

Moira clicked her tongue lightly, unimpressed.

“I _meant_ , what are you doing here? You’re clearly ill, you could contaminate the entire lab. ...Is that a cold?”

You nodded, turning back to your slow and tedious work, made all the slower when your brain felt like cotton.

“The other lab techs are on personal leave, I’m the only one here this week.”

“They let _three_ lab techs take leave at the same time? Cad an ifreann.” Moira pinched between her eyes, clicking her datapad off. “Who even gets a cold, anymore? It’s Twenty-forty-seven.”

“Some people… still get them sometimes. Though it is rare, and the cases are typically pretty aggressive.” You speech was slower, distracted, but you tried to shake the haze off. There was so much work to do, and you were so _tired._

But the doctor was having none of it.

“Alright, put it down, stop what you’re doing.”

When all you did was blink dazedly at her, she sighed and took your datapad from you, making a mental note to disinfect it later.

“But--”

“You’re of no use in this condition. You need to rest.”

Ah yes, rest sounded nice, but home was so very far away. “I’m not--”

“You are.”

Moira shuffled you out of the lab and down the hall to her office. Which was an odd choice, except that she had a couch in her office with blankets and pillows for whenever she pulled an all-nighter and, by golly, it looked like heaven.

Helping you out of your lab coat and shoes was a bit like undressing a drunk. She took the face mask as well, setting a box of tissues down next to you. You accepted it gratefully.

“Stay here.”

Once she’d left, you dropped yourself onto the couch like a fucking rock. You were _so_ tired. Why had you gotten out of bed this morning?

Oh right, because Doctor O’Deorain needed your help and you really hated letting her down. Totally reasonable. Except now you were being an inconvenience on top of costing her the only remaining tech in her lab for the day. Damn. You know what? You’ll probably be fine after a short nap, just enough to get some wind back in your sails, then you could finish those files and get back to work. Yep, good plan.

A cool hand on your forehead startled you awake. Wait, when did you fall asleep?

“At least you don’t have a fever, though you’re looking a bit pink.”

Moira sat primly on the very edge of the couch, putting a tray down on the coffee table.

“Here, take these.” She handed you some pills and a bottle of water and you accepted both, doing as instructed. “How’s that cough?”

You response came in the form of another coughing fit as soon as you tried to answer.

“Sounds about right. The medication will help with the congestion, but this will help your throat. Drink up.”

She handed you a warm mug that smelled sweet with an undertone of cloves. The first sip was like heaven’s nectar slipping down your throat and you quickly drank more. It was making you feel cozy.

“What is it?” You asked blearily.

“A hot toddy. It should help you sleep some more, too. I can drive you home in a few hours. Will you be alright waiting in here that long? I’d call a cab, but I’d rather see you home myself.”

You realized, after a long moment, that she was actually taking care of you. You’d _never_ seen her give the other lab techs this kind of consideration.

“Um, yeah. I’m fine.”

Moira smiled faintly, watching you sip more of the drink.

“You will be fine. You’re a hard worker, but you also need to recognize your limits, alright?”

You nodded sheepishly.

“Good, finish that and rest. Don’t worry about the lab, I can handle it myself for one day.”

She surprised you further when she brushed some hair back from your face before getting up. After adjusting the lights to dim, she left again. You looked down into the amber-colored drink and smiled.


	14. Alexithymia Part 2 - Reaper SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper keeps finding little ways to surprise you, and he's not the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two uploads in one night? yup yup.

You were a toxicologist by profession, not an expert in Kinesics. But you didn't need to be for it to be obvious that you were making  _ everyone _ in the commissary uncomfortable.

On a normal day, you'd simply pick up your food and eat either outside or in your office. But a rather unfortunate incident with a mutated toxin and a test subject had left your lab smelling, well, less than appetizing. And it was raining heavily again. That left the commissary, which surly should have been fine. There were plenty of seats and you took your lunches at odd times anyway. Nothing should have felt out of the ordinary about sitting there and eating. So why did it?

Distantly, you were reminded of your younger years, in public school before you were invited to a much more prestigious private school on a free ride because they found your grades agreeable. Before the echo of taunting and food in your hair could creep up on you again, you snatched that memory from the forefront of your mind, folded it back up, and tucked it away deep into the vault of memories you no longer dwelled on.  _ Never again. _ You were far too old for that nonsense anyway.

So you ate in silence, at a table that had not been empty when you sat down, but was empty now. Honestly, you kept a very clean lab and practice, it wasn’t as if you carried toxin traces on your clothes everywhere you went, they needn’t be so wary. Those who stayed spoke to each other in hushed whispers, eyes jumping back to you every-so often. What were they expecting to happen?

And why were you even noticing? Was it bothering you? Solitude never bothered you before. Although you weren’t as solitary now as you used to be, Reaper refused to let that be so. He seemed to stop by your lab every day he wasn’t gone on an assignment. Even though he didn’t speak much and you just kept working, you’d started recognizing when he was there so he stopped startling you quite as much. His quiet companionship had become quite comfortable.

Was that beginning to make you more socially aware?

“Interesting…”

“What is?”

You didn’t jump because the voice startled you, you jumped because it was not the voice you were used to and it seemed to come out of nowhere. Until Sombra materialized in the seat across from you, lounging with a sandwich in her mouth. Everyone seemed to immediately look away, except you.

“...How long have you been there?”

“Eh, a while. What’s interesting?”

It took a moment for you to realize you'd mumbled the word aloud.

“Nothing important, per se, simply social observation.”

She nodded like she understood, though you weren't sure how. Sombra was a strange person. You didn't know her terribly well, but she acted like she knew you just fine. In fact, she was one of the few people who seemed genuinely unbothered around you.

“Why you eating in here today?” It wasn't a rude question in tone, and Sombra didn't even look up from the hardlight screen she'd manifested in front of her.

“My lab is being decontaminated. I had an incident this morning.”

Sombra smirked, typing something quickly. “More guts?”

“...Of a kind.”

You ate in silence after that and you realized that normal conversation was reluctantly starting to resume in the dining hall.

Sombra couldn't take it, though, and she swiped the screen away to lean eagerly over the table. “Spill, what kind of incident?”

It naturally took you by surprise, spoonful of rice pausing mid-route to your mouth.

“What?”

“Your cameras were put on closed servers and I'm not allowed in your lab without direct order so I can't watch your loco, gory experiments anymore. So tell me!” She looked like kid demanding sweets.

Wait, your cameras were moved to closed servers?

“Uh, well, let's just say there was a fair bit of melting involved.”

She looked disgusted and delighted.

“Like skin?”

“Epidermis and dermis, yes, among other things. What do you mean, anymore?” You were very confused.

Sombra scoffed and rolled her eyes, leaning back again with a wave of her hand. Her Kinesics were certainly colorful.

“Gabe doesn't want anyone snooping into your work, your computers are on closed servers now, too. I've been ‘expressly forbidden’ from hacking into them. Which I only ever did  _ once _ , and your notes? They make no sense.”

She said it all so casual, pulling another hardlight screen up.

“...Oh.”

Reaper… was protecting your work? Was that why he kept coming around to your lab? You hadn't thought what you were doing would be that important to Talon. Or, if it was, you'd assume that they'd tell you. Important enough that a high ranking member of the council would directly watch over you?

You were so confused, and an uncomfortable squirming sensation was starting to wiggle around in your guts. Why? It wasn't dissimilar to the feeling you got when you were on your three-hundredth compound combination and it still wasn't doing what you hoped. Similar to when the CDC handed you a box of your things and told you, in no uncertain terms, that you were fired.

“Y hablar del diablo.”

“Hm?”

You followed Sombra's line of sight to find Reaper himself entering the commissary. He paused momentarily, taking in the obvious perimeter everyone else in the room was giving you and Sombra. Or, well, you. A few even got up and left through the opposite door when they saw him. You noticed his hands tightening into fists. They feared him more than they feared you.

“Hey,” Sombra greeted him with complete nonchalance.

He joined you both at the table, but didn't sit.

“Doctor.”

“What? Oh, yes?” Seeing him made the uncomfortable feeling squirm a little stronger, but you tried to push it away.

Sombra tried to stifle a laugh for some reason as Reaper hesitated and settled on a simple, “Hi.”

“Hello…”

Sombra's shoulders shook and Reaper growled softly.

“Are you ready to go yet?” He was obviously talking to the woman.

She wrapped what was left of her sandwich in its paper and tossed it behind her to land neatly in a trash bin.

“Si, wait! I forgot something, I'll meet you in the hangar. Later, psycho doc.”

She teleported away before you could form a response. Looking down at your food, you found your appetite had fled the room as well. The lab was probably safe to return to by now anyway.

“Finished?” Reaper asked when you stood, he looked at your half-eaten bowl.

“Yes, I… had a large breakfast.”

...Did you just lie? Why?

He made a sound of consent. “I'll walk you back to your lab.”

And he did; a large, quiet, imposing presence next to your much more passive form as you took the lifts back down into the basements. The halls outside of your lab smelled sharply of disinfectants, but the cleaning crew was gone. He followed you inside, as well. There wasn't a speck of blood anywhere. Wonderful.

You realized, after a moment, that Reaper seemed hesitant to leave, though he'd lingered by the door. His posture was off again.

“Is something wrong?” Wait, that's not what you meant to ask.

“...I was going to ask you, that.”

That brought you to a full stop.

“You’re quiet,” he pointed out, causing you to frown slightly.

“I typically am.”

“Not to me,” Reaper grumbled, shifting his weight. “Did someone say something to you?”

“Say something?” You realized he probably meant the clear discomfort in the commissary, and you were quick to dash that suspicion. “No, nothing I’ve never heard before.”

“...Did Sombra?”

“No,” you gave a faint smile at that. “Miss Sombra is an interesting individual, I do not think I mind her company.”

He nodded quietly.

You hesitated to say anything, but given that you were already discussing things of that nature (and given that worming sensation in your stomach persisted), you paused him from turning towards the door.

“Actually, there is something, I suppose.”

He gave you his attention and you tried to think of the proper way to word it.

“Miss Sombra mentioned that you had my camera feeds and computers moved to a closed server. May I ask why?”

“Privacy,” he answered without hesitation. “She snoops too much.”

“Snoops?” It struck you then. Privacy. Sombra certainly made it sound like she watched your experiments more than once, which meant she’d been tapping into your camera feeds. Nowadays, Reaper was keeping you company in the lab. “...Your privacy?” He did it specifically to keep Sombra from spying on him during his down time?

He made a sound you weren’t sure how to interpret, correcting you. “Our privacy.”

That worming sensation suddenly bloomed like buttercups in the spring. No longer sour, but warm.

“Oh.”

Reaper nodded, reaching into one of his pockets. “I have to get going. Here.” He handed you, of all things, a shotgun shell. He didn’t say goodbye, either, simply dissolved into a smokey puddle on the floor, which then dissipated.

You stood there, staring at the shell, coming to a slow realization. He wanted your time together to be private. It’s not as though you ever did anything terribly exciting. Alright,  _ you _ considered your work exciting, but you doubted he shared that enthusiasm. It was just work and occasional conversation.

You gripped the metal end of the shell and carefully tugged it off, the cartridge being suspiciously light to be loaded. What it actually held was two small, delicate blue flowers, and your heart fluttered.

“Forget-me-not.”


	15. Collection - Moira SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pinkiegirl12: moira/fem reader with some fantasy concepts? like maybe the reader is some kinda mythical creature and barely tries to hide it. thank u in advance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one came out kinda yandere, sorrynotsorry. and, as always, i didn't specify a reader gender so more folks can enjoy.

You weren't even trying to hide it, and Moira wasn't the only one to notice. How much water you drank and the slits on your neck; “scars from childhood” you claimed. Rubbish. You never shied away from the rain, you relished in it, glowed. And the amulet around your neck, the one you wore each and every day? Moira was in-tuned to its ancient script, could hear the powerful binding spell whispering in her mind whenever you were near. You…

You were of the Sea.

A child of the ocean, who dared to stand on two legs. Not just stand, but run, laugh,  _ live. _ As if you were human like the rest of them.

But you weren't human. You were merkind and, even though you worked at a humble flower stall on market street, others were beginning to notice. If you realized this, it wasn't obvious in your carefree smiles as you sold daisies to sweethearts.

“Magister O'Deorain, good morning.”

You always seemed so genuinely delighted to see her and talk to her. How Moira longed to see you in your true form. You were a beauty bound on two legs, she could only fathom the splendor of your scales and fins. What coloration were you? What region were you from?

Why did you leave it all behind? To take the risk of coming ashore? The wars were not so long ago that humans had forgotten the death toll lost in the waves. Families still had empty seats at their dinner tables. The penalty for being caught as merkind in the capitol city, of all places, could cost you your life.

No, Moira couldn't allow that.

“Magister?”

She blinked that cloud from her mind, giving you a kind smile that you gladly returned.

“My apologies, dear. Good morning. You're shining as bright as the sun today, I see.”

Oh, you always flushed such a lovely shade of pink that she couldn't help delicately taking your hand and pressing a small, but fond, kiss to your knuckles.

“And please, call me Moira. How long shall you make me ask that of you?”

Flustered, yet delighted, you laughed like an angel's bell.

“Always once more, ...Moira.”

You absolute tease. You knew  _ exactly _ what you were doing to her, and it made Moira want to snatch you up all the more.

But patience was everything. She wasn't ready yet. Your tank wasn't finished being built.

When it was, though, oh nothing was going to stop her from taking you home. And then?

Nothing would ever take you away.


	16. Alexithymia Part 3 - Reaper SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a moon caught in your orbit, Reaper just can't seem to stay away from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, i am all about this au right now, it's just pouring out of me so easily. but i also don't want to make the commitment of turning it into a separate thing because it probably won't have an ending of any kind. so i'm gonna keep it here in my oneshot collection.

“So, how's is going with psycho doc?”

The hovercraft rumbled beneath their feet, carrying them through the night sky; closer to their objective, and further from you.

Gabriel purposefully ignored the woman who chose to sit next to him when she could have quite literally sat anywhere else.

“You planning on making a move on them sometime this century? Or does brooding as their silent shadow do it for you?”

He growled in warning at that, but Sombra remained unfazed.

“Cut it out, it's painfully obvious you have the hots for them. I think you should go for it. There's not much competition.”

He wanted to shove her away, but he knew from experience it would just make her talk more. So he didn't reply. He closed his eyes and thought about you.

It wasn't on purpose, his feelings for you. Since becoming Reaper, he thought feelings like that were lost to him. That his heart died with his humanity. But then Akande recruited you and suddenly Gabriel could feel his heart again. It was beating, and you had no idea.

It wasn't your fault, he'd met people like you before, in… different times. When he was a different man. Emotions weren't variables you could collect, and romance couldn't be measured in a syringe. He was certain you had no idea of his interest in you, even though he'd been obvious enough for Sombra to pick up on it. And he didn't want to push you. Truth be told, he was damn grateful you'd seen his face and still let him touch you in any way, still let him be close to you. Even enjoyed his company.

No, he didn't want to push his feelings on you. If your brooding, silent shadow was what he was going to get, he was damn grateful. He didn't deserve more.

His comm beeped, giving him pause. It was from Sombra, who was still sitting next to him browsing through her screens. With no small measure of suspicion, he opened it.

To a photo of you.

You clearly had no idea you'd been photographed. It was probably a still pulled from security cameras of you walking through the halls.

You were so beautiful.

As he watched, several pink heart emojis popped up around you and he heard an exaggerated kissing sound that made him scoff and turn the comm off.

“Focus on the mission.”

Sombra chuckled next to him.

 

-

 

Regardless of how long he was gone, or how late he got back to base, the first thing he did was check the security log for your name. To see whether you'd gone home for the day yet or not. It was usually not. You could work for days without pause if no one stopped you.

You were still on base, of course. It was nearly four in the morning.

Gabriel sighed, deciding to first head to his quarters and shed some armored weight. He'd been in Egypt for several weeks, there was sand everywhere. He hated sand. The sand needed to go.

Thankfully few were awake in the halls to see him in little more than a hoodie, pants, and boots. Mask ever in place.

Your lab door wasn't set to ‘do not disturb’, which was an improvement. It meant he could walk in normally. You weren't in the lab at large, though. The plastic-sectioned experiment area showed signs of a previous subject that had already been removed, and you weren't there either. Your office, then. It was merely a small room adjoining the lab where you did reports, and you were slumped in the chair at your desk, completely asleep. There were four different coffee mugs around your work space, in varying states of empty.

Gabe sighed. You really worked far too much.

He almost woke you, firmly, but something in his chest made him pause. You probably needed the rest.

So, as carefully as he could manage, Gabriel lifted you from the desk chair and into his arms, encouraging your head to rest against his shoulder. You let out a sleepy groan and curled in closer to him. His heart slammed against his chest so hard, a blank state of wooziness passed over his mind for barely a second. Hell, you were so cute.

When he was sure his hold was secure he stood still and concentrated.

“Lights.” The office and lab dimmed.

Gabriel steadied his breathing, feeling every nanite in his body shudder in anticipation. He called the shadows up around you both, and sank into its pool.

Then dragged you both out again somewhere entirely different for him. He'd only seen your walkway a few times after escorting you home, when you opened the door. It was easy to find your bedroom upstairs, a neutral color palette with various potted plants scattered around. All healthy and thriving. Apparently, you were just as good at keeping things alive as you were at killing them.

You shifted against his chest with a sigh, fingers curling against the fabric of his hoodie. He hadn't expected you to be cuddly and it was doing dangerous things to his heart rate.

Trying hard to remain impassive to how badly he wanted to climb into your bed and hold you close all night, Gabe tugged the covers back to reluctantly kneel and set you down. Of course, as soon as your head hit the pillow you woke up.

Not suddenly, but blearily, blinking and patting him in confusion until you saw his mask.

“Hey,” you mumbled, voice light and raspy with sleep. “You're back.”

“Yeah,” he responded softly. You were clearly only half awake, because you smiled at him so tenderly. A floppy hand touched the side of his mask while he tried to situate you on the bed, and he froze. But he did nothing to stop you from slipping it off.

The only light in the room was from the moon, and with his hood pulled up he wasn't sure how much you could see of him in the dark. You smiled still, though, hand falling back to the blankets with his mask.

Your voice was slurred with sleep. “Mm'missed you.”

It took a lot of control to keep from crumbling into a pile of smoke in your arms. Gabriel's hand shook slightly as he reached to brush his fingers against your cheek, but he stopped just short.

“I missed you, too.” He was grateful you were barely conscious, that you couldn't hear the wrecked tone of his voice. Nervous energy tingled in his limbs, wanting more than anything to gather you back up and kiss--

A slight frown met your lips as you glanced around.

“M'I home?”

“Yeah, yeah… I brought you home. Sleep in your own bed.”

“Kay,” you accepted it easily, starting to wiggle around. He realized you were trying to shed your lab coat and kick off your shoes, and failing terribly. So he took a deep breath and helped. It was easy to manhandle you when you were so sleepy and compliant, and you smelled so warm. Gabriel knew he was torturing himself, but he couldn't tear himself away. He took off your lab coat and shoes, then your belt so the buckle wouldn't dig into your hips while you slept. He hesitated at your sweater; you were wearing a shirt underneath, you might get hot under the blankets.

Promising himself he wouldn't make it weird, he slid his hands between you shirt and sweater, peeling them apart. You hummed as he pulled it up over your head, then tucked you under your covers.

“Get some sleep, doc.”

“Night,” you sighed the word, eyes already closed. You were asleep in mere moments, the image of a deceptively innocent angel.

Gabriel caught himself staring for far too long. For once, he was glad Sombra was right. It was an injustice to you but, as far as he knew, he was the only one with an interest in you. So even if you'd never recognize the color of his love, he was going to stay close to you and soak up every moment like this he could get. Taking his mask from your lax grip, Gabe leaned forward and pressed a tiny kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> off-topic, quick play has been dicks tonight. appreciate your healer, folks. look out for them. endorse them whether you win or lose. they put up with a lot of shit and have to worry about 11 people on the map, not just 6. cut them some fucking slack.


	17. Alexithymia Part 4 - Reaper SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the point? You finally kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyooo, this part took me a hot minute bc feelings are hard to write well, haha. but it's just in time for heart day, imagine that.

You found yourself considering Gabriel quite often recently. Not in any one particular manner, but in a variety. Of course, you had very little experience in a few of those manners, regardless of how they were plaguing your dreams, so you focused on the manners you were more adept at.

Namely, his condition.

It seemed as though Gabriel was in your lab with you almost all the time, now. When he wasn't seeing to his own work, of course, he was still a busy and important man. You didn't have any complaints. He was respectful of you and your space, even responded when you tried to work out a problem vocally. You were starting to realize that he was quite intelligent.

There were also small moments where he would touch you casually. A light bump of his shoulder against yours, your fingers brushing when he passed you something. You found yourself enjoying his easy familiarity, but it was also helping you notice a pattern.

Whenever he wraithed, for lack of a better word, he'd be quite tense afterwards, body giving off faint traces a smoke still. You often recalled and pondered the lacerations on his face, as well. Was he in pain?

It wasn't long until you couldn't contain the curiosity anymore. You  _ needed  _ to know more. Though you were hesitant to approach the subject with the man himself for whatever reason.

“You should kiss him.”

With a few quick blinks, you pulled out of your mind and back into the reality of the beautiful day outside, where you sat on a bench with your lunch.

To your left, Sombra crouched against the wall of the building, a series of hardlight screens in front of her.

“What?”

“Dios mio, ustedes dos no tienen remedio.  _ Kiss him _ , before I die, please.”

You hesitated to ask, but Sombra could be vague quite often.

“Gabriel?”

The woman snorted. “No, Akande. Of course I mean Gabriel! Do you talk to any other men?”

“Not on a regular basis.”

“Glad we're on the same page, then. Kiss him.”

You wanted to ask her why, but Sombra was a wellspring of fastidious half-truths. (And the desire to to do as she was suggesting had passed through your mind before...) You frowned slightly.

“He's always wearing his mask.”

“Kiss the mask, he'll take the hint.”

Kiss the mask? Where?

The thought of him removing his mask simply circled you right back around to your original train of thought.

“Miss Sombra, I need to ask you a personal favor.”

“It'll cost you.”

“That's fine.” You put your food down, looking out over the tree line. “I'm not certain you'll even agree to it. It's a highly unethical request.”

With a swipe of her hand, Sombra got rid of the screens and gave you her full attention.

“I'm listening.”

 

\--

 

You had been working on something very complex for a while now. Naturally, Gabriel expected to find you synthesizing chemicals in your lab, as you had been for weeks. Instead, he found you at your computer, all four screens in use, covered in data that you were studying closely, troubled frown on your lips.

“Problems?”

“Hm? Oh!” Your eyes lit up when you saw him, abandoning the screens completely. “I was hoping to see you today.”

That took Gabriel by surprise, not that you could tell. You seemed eager, yet nervous, about something, meeting him halfway across the lab.

“Did you need something?” It was the first time you'd ever asked for anything and he'd  _ make certain _ that you got it.

Nerves taking over a bit more, you hesitated.

“Um, yes, I do. From you, specifically. But first, I need to ask you something important.”

Gabriel was baffled by this behavior, but he waited for the question you seemed so nervous to ask. You subconsciously straightened your lab coat, photo identification jostling with the movement.

“...Do you trust me?”

That wasn't the question he'd been expecting, and you seemed so pensive about the answer.

“Yes,” he answered honestly. “I do.”

While that seemed to soothe you somewhat, there was clearly still something on your mind. You walked over to the plastic partitions and peeled them apart, then paused by the chair you'd ended so many lives in.

“...Could you sit here for me?”

If Gabriel could still feel a chill, he was sure he'd have felt one then. Yet there wasn't a trace of ill-intent in you. There were no trays of ready made toxins, or any other tools of experimentation. You just wanted him to sit.

So he sat, looking strange in a spot you were used to seeing only blind-folded test subjects. You turned to one of your tables to retrieve a pen light and a pair of gloves, then returned nervous once more.

“Gabriel…”

“Yes?” His tone was softer, almost encouraging.

Finally, you bit the bullet.

“May I please have a closer look at the physical state of your condition?”

If anyone else had asked, he might have killed them. Crushed their windpipe, cracked their head against the table, something like that.

For you, he gave a slow nod, and you let out a long, steady breath.

He sat perfectly still as you lowered his hood and removed his mask. His face was mostly the way you remembered from your winter walk.  Then, he'd had a laceration on his jaw, swarming with nanites like a small, black cloud. Part of his nose had also been missing. There was scar tissue there now, but the damage had moved to his temple and hairline, even around his right eye. You could barely see the white of bone beneath the constantly-moving swarm. The eyes themselves were still an oozing black, bright red irises watching your every move.

You were gentle in touch as you examined the presently affected areas. His entire face was covered in scar tissue, really, and drained of pigmentation. You could only imagine what the rest of his body must look like. You wanted to have a look there, too, but you needed permission first.

“Are you in pain?”

Gabriel considered his answer.

“...I'm used to it.”

O'Deorain's notes had been… troubling to say the least. You were no geneticist, but you had a lot of concerns you wished to address with him.

Pursing your lips to keep from sighing, you clicked off the pen light and lightly smoothed graying curls away from the affected areas.

“May we discuss something?” Your voice came out soft, given your close proximity. Those glowing, red eyes dropped to your lips briefly.

“Mm?”

“I hope you don't consider this invasive of me. We seem to be spending a lot of time together and I've noticed a few things. About your condition.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but you pressed on.

“I managed to obtain copies of O'Deorain's notes and formulas from her time in Blackwatch, when she experimented different augmentations on you. Aside from her work being rushed and sloppy, to say the very least of it, it seems to me that she left you in an unstable condition that she simply has not cared, or bothered, to correct.”

Gabriel’s attention was most definitely on your words now.

“Now, I know I'm not a medical doctor, but I feel fairly confident that if you allowed me to collect some samples and gave me some time, I might be able to do something to help ease your pain and stabilize your nanites enough to work more effectively. If, if that is something you want.”

He didn't respond for several long moments, just stared at you blankly. It was beginning to make you nervous that you'd overstepped.

Just as words of apology stumbled onto your lips, a gloved hand reached for yours. Gabriel spoke in such a vulnerable tone that he sounded like an entirely different person.

“You can… fix me?”

‘Fix’ was relative, there would be no way to completely undo the damage O'Deorain had caused his body. But an achingly fierce determination flared to life in your chest, and you gave a short, single nod anyway.

“I can try.”

Pain like you'd never known flickered across his face for the barest of seconds. The look of a broken man feeling hope for the first time after so many years. It stabbed into you like physical pain that was soothed in seconds when Gabriel lurched up from the seat and kissed you.

Your pen light clattered to the floor, spine straightening in shock. The texture of his lips was rough, but oh-so gentle in caressing yours, the softest sound breathed in the back of his throat. Nothing short of pure pleasure swam over your mind so strongly that you neglected to kiss back until he was pulling himself away.

“Sorry, I-- shit,  _ fuck _ , _ I'm sorry. _ ” His physical form began to deteriorate, smoke moving in nervous, erratic coils. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, taking his face in your hands before he disappeared entirely. He ceased all movement, watching with wide eyes as you stepped close again and softly begged.

_ “Again.” _

He couldn't move, like he couldn't believe you wanted it. Wanted him. You didn't necessarily understand it, yourself, but you  _ felt _ it on his lips. You felt it every time he held your hand, or patiently listened to you ramble about formulas and ideas.

You wanted to feel it again.

“Gabriel.” You weren't sure what to do, or if there was supposed to be a pattern or technique, or anything. You pressed your forehead to his, feeling a tickle from his nanites, and you murmured his name against his lips, pressing small kisses to them in between.

He broke with a dry sob, gathering you in his arms to kiss again firmly. You grunted softly, pulled tightly against his body armor, but you didn’t even mind the extra shells digging into your sternum. You made sure you kissed him back this time. Despite how hard he was holding your body, his kiss was still careful. A cozy haze fogged over your mind and you sighed against him. Your heart gave a sudden leap for your throat when you felt something cool and somewhat moist brush your lip. Just as shy, you parted them to the sensation, meeting his tongue with the tip of yours for just a moment.

A hard shudder ran through him, kiss breaking slowly.

Both of you were a little out of breath, from the kiss or the maelstrom of emotions quaking through you blood was anyone’s guess. The man you were holding so dearly was not the one you expected when you’d first laid eyes on the Reaper’s mask. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t seeing the moral-less scientist agents warned each other about in hushed whispers through the halls upstairs. He saw you for who you really were,

And you were beginning to suspect…

That he always had.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone please request mccree, i miss my boy but idk what to write for him.


	18. Fleas On A Dog - McCree SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> carelesscariño: Based on your latest chapter wanting McCree, I suggest tsundere reader literally do missions that coincidentally have McCree with them but God forbid they admit he’s the reason why they took the mission in the first place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not Super Great at tsundere, but I tried! 
> 
> Ghost is your code name in this. title is from a southern expression about imperfections that usually goes something like, "every dog has a few fleas." enjoy!

You’d known he was trouble the first day Reyes brought him home and inducted him into Blackwatch. You were still a small operation back then, newly established, lacking all the bells and whistles and increased funding you had now. Reyes was clearly looking for a certain kind of folk to recruit. He’d given McCree a choice that was barely a choice at all to anyone who enjoyed walking free. That’s how you’d known he was a fool.

Sure, your history wasn’t altogether too different, but the difference was that Reyes was never actually able to prove you were who he suspected you to be. You? A vigilante sniper working alone and leaving no clues or any kind of traceable trail at the tender sweet age of nineteen? Never. Did you want to join Blackwatch anyway? Hell, why not.

Jesse McCree was a horse of an altogether different color, and you were more than familiar with his kind growing up. One of them rowdy, desert boys. All the charming twang of a ranch hand hiding the crack-shot bite of a rattler. Confident, cocky, and careless. Bless his heart. You didn’t think it would take long for Reyes to give up and drop his overly-flirtatious ass back in the stocks. You turned out to be very, very wrong.

McCree wanted to stay out of jail more than you’d originally anticipated, because that was nearly five years ago. Blackwatch had gotten a little bigger, but so had the scope of your world and the world at the end of your scope. Despite wising up and learning to aim better, though, Jesse McCree was still a fool in your eyes. He could walk without being heard now, but he was still too loud. There was skill behind his confidence now, too, which only fueled his snake-like charm, but you were never fooled. You could see the secrets in the corners of his easy smile, could hear the rattle from a mile away.

The one thing he hadn’t grown out of was being careless. He liked to pretend that skill could cover his weak spots. Half the time, he never even realized you were there with him, filling in holes he didn’t even know he had. Because where Jesse was loud, you were deathly quiet. Where he was cocky, you were modest. While he charmed the pants off of folks with his cowboy persona, no one even noticed you were there.

Where Jesse McCree was careless, you were cold, calculating, and careful. The snake on the ground and the hawk that followed it.

Recently, Reyes had tried to convince you that McCree was fine to take on certain missions alone.

“I trained him myself, Ghost,” he’d say. “He’ll do fine.”

You went with him anyway, sometimes without clearance. You’d follow at a distance, and quietly bail him out when it got hairy. Reyes always had a earful and a hell of a punishment waiting for you when you got back, but he’d been the one to teach you that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Though whenever you reminded him of that, it usually got you smacked on the back of the head.

Sometimes Reyes would look at you strange and ask why you were doing it. Why you _kept_ doing it.

“Big world, small team. Can’t really afford to get any smaller, boss.” He never bought it. Neither did you, but you had no other way to explain it.

McCree was a fool, why not just let fate handle a fool’s folly? He’d never learn from his mistakes if you didn’t let him.

“There y’are!”

One thing McCree was actually, infuriatingly, good at was finding you in your nests. No matter how high you made them. You turned away from your scope to see him holding his hat onto his head against the wind that whipped around the south-eastern communication tower, struggling to haul himself up over the edge one-handed. He was dressed down in jeans and a plaid shirt, terrible choice for your current altitude. You could see goosebumps on his neck.

“Why in Sam Hill are you all the way up here?”

You looked back out towards the mountains, where bright, red balloons could barely be seen blowing around in the wind, anchored to drones.

“Target practice.”

He managed to crawl up alongside you, pausing for breath and squinting out towards the horizon.

“Oh, it’s kinda pretty up here.”

“Is it?”

“Hell yeah, you tellin’ me you ain’t noticed? How long you been up here?”

“Couple hours, I guess.”

Now that you _were_ looking, you realized he was right. The golden twilight sun lit the mountains up in a rather lovely way, and it was peaceful. Calm.

McCree looked out at the balloons, then back up you, a single eyebrow raised.

“...It’s takin’ you a couple hours to pop three balloons?”

You’d already popped nine, but correcting him really didn’t matter. So you shrugged.

“It’s relaxing.”

“Darlin’, I can think of a dozen things more relaxin’ than this. It’s cold, is what it is. Now pack it up, or we’re gonna be late.”

He started shimmying backwards to climb down the way he came, but you only looked confused.

“Late for what?”

“Now don’t go tellin’ me you forgot about our little wager. You’re hurtin’ my feelins, Ghost.”

You clearly forgot. McCree was constantly talking, sometimes it was challenges and wagers, it all kind of slugged in one ear and out the other for you a lot. He faked heartbreak, taking his hat off to cover his chest with it.

“I’m gonna die alone, momma,” he said to the sky, then he crawled back up next to you and cleared his throat.

“Tell me if this tickles your elephant memory. Five weeks ago, Istanbul, omnic trafficking ring, you and me. All blue skies until interpol shows their clumsy asses up. Firefight, hostages, gets real ugly. Traffickers get twitchy on the trigger of enough explosives to take out the whole damn city block.” McCree gestured lightly with his hands as he recounts it, a playful smile on his lips as if the entire mission hadn’t gotten fucked so sideways the two of you had nearly been benched. “I’m on the ground, you’re my eye in the sky. I get on the comm and say, ‘hey Ghost, wanna make a bet?’, you didn’t answer, so I assumed that meant yes. I said, ‘betcha I can take out the last of these fuckers in one go.’ You said, ‘McCree, if you manage that, I’ll take your fine ass out on a date.’ Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop, they all fell down. So, it’s date time, c’mon.”

He started to scoot backwards again when you added on an additional, “pop.” He paused.

“What?”

“There were seven targets, you only took out six.” He just stared at you. “I took out the last one.”

While McCree looks like he’s trying to dig the buried memory of a seventh target out of his brain, you put your rifle into safety mode and sit up to finally stretch.

“I also never said any of that. Pretty sure I told you to act serious because it wasn’t a game.”

He gave up trying to remember to pass you one of his cocky smiles. “An’ that’s why we’re such a good team. You always got my back, darlin’. Now let’s quit lollygagging, the Blues are throwin’ this movie night shindig thing in that really big conference room an’ Captain Amari said I could bring a date.”

Putting the brim of his hat in his mouth this time, McCree gave you a wink and started to climb down the communication tower. If you’re cheeks were pink, it was because of the cold wind biting into them for hours.

Not because McCree winked at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, if you haven't already, please check the updated rules in chapter one before making a request, thanks in advance!


	19. Nightmares - Morrison SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 00Hasha00: Welp welp welp   
> Soon you’ll have to make the whole separate series for this SFW Dad stuff   
> So I’ve got some ideas but you can do literally anything u want.Dad76 makes me happy in general.  
> Soo how about reader having really bad nightmares and Jack is comforting them.   
> Or we know that Jack is a farm boi and he is dragging his kid to visit this farm where he grew up   
> 😎❤️✨✨✨

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strike commander dad just gives me so many feelings. this one is Real Short tho.

Your nightmares always ended up the same, even if they didn’t start that way. Everything would grow dark, closed in. An overwhelming feeling of suffocation, thick clouds of ash, the booming sounds of heavy artillery getting closer and closer. You couldn’t run, you couldn’t even move.

And then you’d shoot up in bed, gasping for air and fighting your own sheets.

You didn’t always have nightmares, but they still happened. Time put little distance between you and the memories you tried to keep locked away. Thankfully, once you could de-tangle your limbs from your twisted blankets, you knew exactly where to go.

The one person you knew who had more experience with nightmares than anyone else in your life.

Your dad.

The Strike Commander was no stranger to bringing his work home with him in the evenings. So when you quietly left your room, you always found him in his home office. He sat at his desk in his pajamas, quietly doing reports in the light of a single lamp. A fifth of whiskey usually sat nearby, but it was rarely open. Your dad preferred to not drink if he could avoid it.

Even though you were quiet, he always noticed you right away; standing in the doorway, shaking and looking, for all the world, like a poor, pitiful thing. He knew without being told. Without any words exchanged at all. So, even though you were getting too old for it, he stopped what he was doing and scooted his chair back.

It was a silent invitation, one you wasted no time in accepting. Getting too old for it, or not, you sat in your dad’s lap and buried yourself against his chest. He hugged you tight, a reminder that he was there for you when you needed him. He would always be there for you when you needed him. You’d never asked him directly, but sometimes you wondered if it haunted him, too. The day he followed the sound of a small child’s sobbing in the middle of a wrecked city. The day he’d shifted some building rubble and found you underneath; battered, bloody, and alone. The day war made him a hero.

And a father.


	20. Wayside Stories - Ashe SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parappaa:  
> i hope its okay to leave another request so soon !! i was thinking ashe who falls for a reader who is more sweet and kind of oblivious and ashe doesnt know how to admit her feelings so she is kind of curt and awkward and reader thinks that ashe doesnt like them bc she is normally so confident around others something about flustered ashe is soo cute ahh ;_;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha there's no cool-down time on how often you can make a request! and thank you for my first Ashe request!!! I love that woman so much ;u; -mwah- enjoy!

When you and your siblings took over the High Side, it was with a finite acceptance. Did you want to spend the rest of your life serving alcohol to rowdy gang members? Probably not, but then again, Ashe had never asked. The three of you needed a place to call home, the High Side needed new operators, and Ashe was nothing if not a giving soul. So she let you all into the gorge to take over the decrepit place, didn’t even make you join the gang.

Your siblings were fine. Hard-working enough to keep the place from completely falling apart, competent enough to keep it stocked with booze and food, and passive enough to not give a rat’s ass about the bar fights, guns, explosives, and whatever the hell else passed under their roof. You, on the other hand, were obviously different.

Not necessarily better or worse, just… noticeably out of place. It took Ashe a while to figure it out. She’d really had to ponder it, watching the way you spoke to the gang and took food orders, observing your body language and the like. She was finally able to put her finger on it after months of unabashed staring.

You were cute. Not in the sense that you were bubbly and overly sweet like some kind of cheap champagne. In fact, your personality was fairly introverted. You were polite to a fault, never seeming to care about things one way or the other. You did your work with a mild smile and never spoke more than needed. When your work was done, you’d duck out the back door to be alone.  _ That’s _ when you were cute.

Books were hard to come by in Deadlock Gorge, but golly did you read them with the sweetest expression on your face. Especially westerns, given that you’d managed to stumble across a few McCree had left behind years prior. They were old, bent, and tattered, but you held them like they were gold. Your face opened up as you read, a complete change to the normally polite yet guarded expression you wore while working.

In a den of vultures, you were a bookworm. Who would have ever thought?

Ashe wanted to talk to you more, outside of telling you what she wanted to eat or drink. She wanted to ask you which of McCree’s terribly cheesy books was your favorite, wondered constantly what you’d look like talking about something you loved. She wanted to hear your opinion on the stars, and your sweetest dreams. Wondered if anything could ever be as sweet as the smile on your face when you thought no one else could see you.

She wanted to ask why the hell someone as bright and lovely as you was wasting their life away behind criminal walls. If law enforcement raided the gorge again, as they’d done so many times before, no one would care that you weren’t technically a Rebel. You’d still get fined, it would still go on your record.

But Ashe couldn’t ask you any of that. It was hard to explain. Her tongue just kind of got stupid around you. Every time you kindly asked if she needed something, Ashe could barely formulate a response. Nods, a shake of the head, simple sentences like, “the usual.” It was worse whenever you wore those jeans. You know,  _ those ones. _ The ones that made your ass look so goddamned squeezable that Ashe could barely look at you without turning into a damn space cadet. Thinking about how nice it’d be to have you love her back. To be able to slip her fingers through the belt loops of those jeans and tug you close for a kiss. To let every “sugar” and “sweet thing” that passed through her thoughts slip out over her tongue, into your ear in a whisper.

But, of course, Ashe had more problems than just getting a little tongue-tied around you. She’d been blessed with resting bitch face. As a gang leader, it worked out just fine. She never had to put in extra effort to come off as intimidating. As a tongue-tied fool who just wanted to be able to have one ( _ one _ ) normal conversation with the cutest damn person this side of Silver City? It was a curse.

So she compromised. Admittedly, it wasn’t something she was willing to do often. Then again, she was usually a better people person. For you? She’d compromise.

Whenever she left the gorge and passed through any other town or city, she’d make an extra stop in a used book store. B.O.B. helped her keep a mental checklist of books you already had access to, he also helped her pick out new ones. Just a couple, or a few; always older and dusty. Nothing too new. Not because you didn’t deserve the best, but because it had turned into something of an unspoken game.

 

You didn’t know who was leaving a little treasure trail of books for you to hunt down all over the gorge, only that they clearly wanted to remain anonymous. If someone in the Rebels was as big of a reader as you, it might be seen by the others as some kind of weakness? Was that why they were hiding it? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that you were damn grateful they were sharing. You’d find random stacks all over the place, sometimes hidden like old timey easter eggs. One in the rafters, one behind the outhouse, one tucked between the jukebox and the wall. It was kind of fun. 

You liked to people watch the Rebels when they came in to eat or get pissed drunk, trying to guess who it might have been. But you honestly had no real clues. Most of them didn’t seem like the reading sort. Maybe that omnic sniper, though. You could never remember his name.

It definitely couldn’t be Ashe, that woman hated you. She hardly even gave you the time of day when she followed her stomach into the saloon. It was fine, really. You weren’t cut from the same cloth anyway. She was a rebel leader, outgoing and charismatic. You were introverted and preferred to be alone, or among few. You were just grateful she hadn’t kicked you out on your own in the desert yet. So you chose to stay quiet and out of the way of her glares, just keep your head down and keep reading.

One day you’d figure out who it was though, and you couldn’t wait to thank them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe this thing already has twenty chapters. thanks guys! prompts are still open! get 'um while they're hot! (tbqh i was expecting more genji prompts than i have gotten)


	21. Follow Your Heart - Part 1 - SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parappaa: 1: i would super love to see your take on both hanzo and genji pining over the same reader and trying to subtly one up each other  
> 2: or hanzo and genji trying to one up each other and then reader just ends up with mccree without them noticing would actually be rly good too, whatever you think is best ! >:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for so simple of a request, i sure took it as a hell of a challenge. 
> 
> fyi, it isn't over.
> 
> /weeps
> 
> it's not over.

You weren't the one to notice it first. Things like flirting and dating were so far off your radar that you forgot they existed half the time. And then when you  _ did _ remember, you never applied those scenarios to yourself. You'd never been particularly attractive, just kinda average. It didn't bother you, it was just reality. Because you didn't see yourself as attractive, you just assumed no one else did either.

People liked you, sure. You were likable, but more in a platonic way. Good to hang out with, fun to be around, always had a joke ready to lighten up the mood. People didn't look at you and think, “I'd hit that.” Would it be nice to engage with someone romantically? Yeah, but you were also fine without it.

There were a hundred other things to do with your time, anyway. Strength training, target practice,  _ finally _ upgrading your gear with the help of Winston and his lab. Talon helped keep you busy, too, by being a bunch of huge dickwads.

You hadn't been part of the original Overwatch, but you remembered it. Your own vigilante-ism had always been… situational. Opportunistic, one could say. You saw a chance to make a difference when most wouldn't dare, and you always felt compelled to act. Definitely not military-trained. So you felt you had a lot to learn from the wealth of experience you were surrounded by. You didn't want to waste this chance.

There were about four or five people you ended up gravitating towards the most. Winston, of course, was one. That dude was fucking smart. You felt like you learned something new every time you were around him, and he was always more than happy to explain anything he was working on. His optimism was equally infectious. He was the one who invited you to join in the first place.

Reinhardt was another. No lie? You'd always idolized the Crusaders. Real life knights in dented, battle-worn armor? Paladins for humanity, helping people for the simple sake of helping? Sign you the  _ fuck _ up. Except for the part where you lacked the proper stature and strength. But that was fine, Reinhardt told the best stories and always made you feel like a knight in your own right. Hell, he was why you'd ever picked up a sword to begin with. (That, and the fact that you needed to specialize in  _ some _ kind of weapon. While Winston admired your MacGyver attitude, he’d convinced you that you needed to always be prepared.)

Picking up the sword was how you and Genji ended up getting to know each other. Naturally, as the only other swordsman on base, he kinda became your teacher. Sure, handling a European short sword was a little different from a Japanese katana, but his lessons were still invaluable to you. You also learned a lot about your own reflexes during his lessons. (He was  _ so fast _ .)

Outside of teaching you how to handle a sword, he also tried teaching you to meditate, which you were just plain terrible at.

“Simply focus… on each breath.”

The measured, soft way he spoke was calming as you breathed in, felt the air expanding your lungs.

You really hoped Winston wasn't just placating you when he said you did well on that last assignment. You didn't really consider yourself a good bodyguard.

And the air leaving you slowly, focusing on those breaths.

Efi had sure been nice, though. She'd probably reported good things about you because she was so friendly.

“Mindfulness,” Genji reminded you. Dear heaven, could he hear you thinking?

“I'm bad at this.”

There was a smile in his voice. “You will get better, if you want to. It can only come from you, and lots of practice.”

You opened your eyes to find his head tilted in your direction, his lights dimmed low.

“How long did it take you?”

“Many years, but I'm confident you will master it more quickly.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He hummed softly, glancing up.

“I just feel it.”

  
  
  
  


Hanzo wasn't necessarily someone you interacted with socially because it was fun or anything, at first.

It was more because he had a tendency to drink. Not a little, either. After most everyone else went to bed, you'd find him in the weirdest places, trying to drown on dry land. The first handful of times had been coincidental. After that, you started looking for him. He really was drinking  _ a lot _ . What kind of teammate would you be if you turned a blind eye to that? What kind of friend?

He definitely didn't consider you a friend back then; more like a pest he couldn’t hide from, who kept shoving water under his nose and tried pouring his sake out when he wasn't looking.

Then there was The Night. You'd found him completely trashed, sitting on the floor outside of your room like he'd been waiting, mumbling under his breath. Once you'd dragged him inside, he'd broken into pieces. You'd never seen anyone cry like that. He blubbered in Japanese and just sobbed into your lap for what felt like hours. All you could do was hold him and whisper reassuringly, petting his hair back from his face. Eventually, he cried himself to sleep.

In the morning, you found your couch empty, like he’d been nothing more than a ghost. But before you made it to the commissary, Hanzo took you aside and apologized for his behavior. He was clearly embarrassed, but seemed relieved that you'd hardly understood a word he'd said. You assured him that you'd gladly be there for him again, should he need it, then invited him to join you for breakfast. Surprisingly, he accepted. The two of you had been friends ever since.

And then there was Jesse McCree. Arguably your favorite person on base. It wasn't just his charming manners or easy familiarity, either. It was his accent. You spent half your life training the accent out of your own speech, but hearing him talk felt like going home. (A home that was long, long gone.) He even teased you sometimes, saying you always developed a hint of a drawl when you were around him.

Then there were the ridiculous idioms, the Mexican cigars, how he always smelled like the desert and cowhide. It was easy to sit with him and talk for hours about everything and nothing. You told him recently that he was your best friend and he laughed, dragging you in for a noogie.

It was actually Jesse who pointed it out to you, a hint of a smirk on his face while the two of you were stargazing at the edge of the hangar.

“...What?”

“You heard me, don't play dumb.”

“Doesn't mean I understood you.”

You were both laid out on your backs, his serape underneath acting as protection from the chill of the concourse. You'd been watching the smoke of his cigar curl and blend into the constellations above when he'd broken the quiet.

“The Shimada brothers have the hots for you, it's pretty straightforward.”

As straightforward as it was, his words were kind of sliding off your brain like an oily slime, the meaning not sinking in right away.

“Like, independently?”

Jesse barked out a short laugh. “Lord, I hope so. Pretty sure they're aware of each other's feelings, though.”

You tried to make sense of him, but he just wasn't making sense.

“Why in Sam Hill do you think that?”

“ _ ‘Why in Sam Hill- _ ’ Do other folk get to hear you talk like that? Or am I special?”

You tried to lightly smack the grin off his face, but he easily swatted your hand away.

“Just you, cowboy. Now talk plainly.”

He took a long drag on his cigar, which made his following words muffled on the smoke. “I’m talkin’ just as plain as day, darlin’. Genji and Hanzo Shimada both have a crush on you.” He said the last sentence slowly, like you were touched in the head.

“...How do you know?”

“Good grief, child.” He sighed like he couldn’t believe he had to spell it out for you, like he didn’t understand why you didn’t believe him. “Alright, let’s start with Genji, I know him better than his brother.”

“You two worked together before, right?”

“Ehhyeah, but I wouldn’t say we were particularly close back then. Genji wasn’t what you’d call the talkative type. Nothing like he is now.”

Understandable, considering what had happened to him.

“But you think you know him well enough now to tell he has a crush on me?”

“Definitely. He looks forward to your lessons like nothing else; mentions you almost all the time, like you’re always on his mind. I wasn’t surprised at all when he told me he started teaching you that meditation stuff, too. Was probably an excuse to spend more time with you.”

You tried to think about your time with Genji in this new context, but you weren’t necessarily convinced.

“Trust me on this, doll.”

“Alright, so what about Hanzo, then?  _ That’s _ even harder to believe than Genji.”

Sure, things had been different between you since That Night. You ate breakfast together most mornings, chatting lightly during workouts. He started drinking a lot less and simply hung out with you more. A crush, though? No. If anything, he acted like an older brother.

Jesse was giving you this look, though. He took the cigar out of his mouth and said one word, “Dorado.”

...Oh.

Dorado.

 

A few months back, Winston had asked a small team to accompany Mei to Dorado to meet with someone from Lumerico. It was a completely secret, off-radar meeting. The employee didn’t want to be named or even seen by anyone but Mei. So the team Winston put together had to be small and easy to blend in. It had ended up being you, Jesse, Hanzo, and Brigitte (out of battle armor). Long story short, you’d been ambushed by Talon assassins. While Jesse had covered Brigitte getting Mei out, you and Hanzo focused on a pair that had tried to flank the building everyone was in. 

The first one went down easy.

The second one shot you in the foot. Which had been more embarrassing than painful. Definitely still painful, though. Using a sword as a crutch? Not ideal. Damages the tip. Hanzo dispatched the man pretty quickly after that. Then, after reporting in your injury, he’d carried you all the way back to the dropship, like a child. You had expected to get scolded for being careless, but he never said anything of the sort. He only knew the very basics of first aid, but still grabbed the kit off the wall and addressed your wound until Brigitte showed up to do more.

Before she got there, you remember how quiet Hanzo was, a small furrow between his eyebrows.

You asked him if he was alright.

The look he gave you was one of disbelief, then something like fond perplexity.

“Cannot walk, yet asking if  _ I _ am alright.”

Seemed like a reasonable question to you at the time.

...But what if his worry  _ had _ been more than concern for a bleeding friend? It sounded so far-fetched. Then again, you didn’t have any experience with people having crushes on you. Maybe Jesse really did know better than you. He was a handsome guy, he probably had all sorts of experience in romance. You were a duckling in the waters of love, and you had no idea which way was up.

The smell of Jesse breathing out another cloud of smoke brought you back to the present. To the cool night and twinkling stars.

“Okay so, what now?”

“Hm?”

He glanced back at you.

“Assuming that Genji and Hanzo really do… like me. What do I do now?”

He almost laughed until he realized you were serious.

“Well,” he drawled slowly, “do you like either of ‘em back?”

You’d literally never considered anything like this a possibility, so you’d never even let yourself begin to think about them in such a way.

“I don’t know… I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Do you think you  _ could _ like either of ‘em?”

“I guess?”

Jesse chuckled, finally snuffing his cigar out. “Well, how’s about this: you’re obviously kinda blind to flirtin’ normally. So, from now on, think about it when you’re with them. Don’t overthink it, but just keep it in mind. Leave yourself open to the possibility, see how you feel then.”

The entire conversation was making you feel flustered, and a little self conscious. But Jesse’s expression was kind, he wasn’t judging your ineptitude.

“I’ll try. Thanks, Jess.”

He raised his arms to cushion the back of his head in his hands.

“Anytime, darlin’. S’what best friends are for.”

 

-

 

You were still skeptical of what Jesse had said, right up until you and Genji were asked to go to New York. It was another escort job. Someone important that Talon may or may not be after needed to safely travel from point A to point B for a trial of some kind and it was yours and Genji’s job to get them there.

Which you did. Thankfully without getting shot in the foot.

When Winston got back to you that it would be a few hours until Lena could pick you up, Genji got really excited and dragged you halfway across Manhattan. Turns out there was this huge arcade he’d always wanted to go to, and he was not kidding when he said huge. It was seven stories tall and filled with everything from XTREME VR to those really old pinball machines. Each floor was a progression in gaming technology, it even had a museum full of memorabilia. You didn’t realize Genji was such a huge fuckin’ nerd, but there he was, living his best life.

You liked video games enough to have a total blast with him. You racked up so many prize tokens, it was almost hard to believe. Genji set no less than five new high scores on a few games, and together you made a bunch of twelve year olds cry in laser tag. Which you might’ve felt bad about had they not been bullying a nerdy girl child beforehand. You and Genji joined her team to (over)balance the odds, it felt like the right thing to do.

It was in XTREME VR that what Jesse said finally came back to you. You let Genji pick the setting and you ended up in the virtual skin of an anthropomorphic rabbit, it was light blue and wearing a yukata covered in clovers. Genji was a light green rabbit wearing a happi and hachimaki. The room around you was the setting of a japanese summer festival.

_ “Yosh.” _

“What game is this?” You asked, twisted around to see the pretty design on your yukata. There was even a hole in the back under the obi for a fluffy little tail to poke out of.

“Usagi Festival Dash, the goal is to win as many summer festival games as possible within the time limit.”

“Oh?” That kinda sounded like… a children’s game. Didn’t people usually use VR to take on zombies and aliens and stuff? But Genji’s avatar looked so excited, his long ears tied up like a pony-tail and flopping as he quickly looked around. When he spotted something he liked, they perked up. “  Īkagen'ni shite!”

He took you by the hand and led you through the non-physical crowd of other anthropomorphic animals in festival-wear. You stopped in front of a booth that had a tub of water filled with colorful balloons floating on the surface.

“Yo-yo tsuri,” Genji called it. The small, pink elephant running it handed you both paper strings with hooks on the end. Genji fished a green one out in no time; it took you longer, but you ultimately fished out a red one, hearing a soft bell sound ring when you did. Golden sparkles appeared around the booth for a moment, too. The game’s way of tracking your wins.

He led you to a ring toss next, which you both kind of struggled with. The rings were light and bounced so easy. You accepted defeat, but Genji managed to win a hair comb with a flower on it.

“Here--ah.” You didn’t have hair, just short fur. Genji perked up after a second, though, and made a motion towards your obi. “May I?” He actually sounded kind of shy.

“Oh, sure.”

Genji stepped closer, tucking the comb into the top of your obi, leaving the pretty flower exposed.

“If only we could take it back with us, it suits you.”

The moment suddenly came into focus, like nothing ever had before. Genji was barely half a step away, his touch lingering only a moment longer than necessary. Even though he wore an avatar, his body language was still very much his. The festival around you was full of light-hearted chatter, and you felt just a little bit breathless.

Was this… a date?

Genji said your name, snapping your mind back into your body.

“Huh? Oh, yes?”

He chuckled lightly, already holding your hand again.

“I asked if you wanted to try goldfish scooping next.”

You could feel his real hand through the VR skinsuit; the warm metal, his touch so gentle.

You smiled. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

  
  
  


Before you left the arcade, Genji wanted to cash in on all the prize tokens. There was honestly so much to choose from, you had no idea what to pick. Eventually, you settled on a clock. It was actually a statue of the arcade mascot that projected the time in light above it. Your room back on base was pretty impersonal so far, so the clock would be a nice decoration and a good reminder of your day with Genji. Savor the happy moments, as Reinhardt would say.

Genji found a rare pachimari plush he’d apparently been looking for forever. You were glad for him. As the two of you sat next to each other on the ship back home, Genji surprised you with another prize he’d gotten with his tokens.

“I was glad to see they sold it as an actual prize.”

He held out the hair comb. It was delicately pretty and matched absolutely nothing else you owned.

“I love it,” you said with a hint of awe in your voice that didn’t escape Genji’s notice. The smile you gave him was so pure, straight from the heart. “Thank you, Genji, for everything. I had a lot of fun today.”

Valves on his shoulders suddenly popped open, letting out a hiss of steam. You almost asked if he was alright, but he beat you to the punch, sounding just a little bit breathless.

“Me, too.”

Maybe… he did like you.

 

-

 

It felt like you were walking on clouds for a few days after that mission, and Hanzo definitely noticed. How could he not? You spent time together almost every day. You smiled at your breakfast in the morning like your brain was full of cotton candy and rainbows, it was unsettling, and it made Hanzo feel a burn of panic in his lungs. He was perfectly aware of how his brother felt about you. It wasn’t something Genji was good at hiding, if he was even trying to. 

Normally, Hanzo would be, very begrudgingly, willing to let you go to him. While Genji had made many mistakes where the heart was concerned in his past, he was a very different person now. Hanzo was sure his brother probably struggled with at least a  _ few _ insecurities about love now, too, all things considered. As a man wishing to atone for the things he’d done, he’d be willing to put his brother’s happiness above his own in this situation.

Except that he just couldn’t. He’d spend the night convincing himself that Genji deserved your affection more than himself, then he’d see you at the table in the morning, waiting for him before you started eating. Half the time, you were still in some kind of pajamas, bedhead and all. Appearance wasn’t super important to you, clearly. And when you’d smile at him, tell him good morning with sleep in your eyes and a soft smile, Hanzo physically  _ ached _ inside. He’d lose himself in how badly he wished to hear you murmur those words against his chest, waking in his arms. He wanted to witness for himself how beautiful you must look in a halo of golden morning light, blearily greeting consciousness; or how soft you’d look in the blue light of dawn, before the rest of the world wakes. The thought of settling down with someone, of having a normal relationship, was something he’d denied himself for a very long time. It was easy before. A man of his crimes was surely unloveable.

You made him feel otherwise.

So he had to at least try. Even if he failed, he was going to try.

Hanzo cleared his throat and you looked up from your oatmeal, attention coming back into focus like you’d completely spaced out. That wasn’t necessarily uncommon for you so early, but Hanzo feared your mind was trailing to his brother. He had to convey to you, somehow, that he pined for your attentions as well. That he longed to grow closer to you than merely friends.

“There is… a full moon tomorrow night.”

The words were slow to make sense to you, but you eventually looked more awake.

“Is there?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you would humor me by joining me for a viewing. There is… something I would like to share with you.”

It was an odd request, he knew that. You were probably going to say no. Full moons happen every month, they weren’t rare events. You’d surely witnessed many before. There was no reason for you to want to stay up late with him to see another--

“Sure.”

You didn’t look put-off by the request, in fact you smiled at him. That wonderful, tired smile that he’d gladly sell his soul to an oni to be able to kiss just once. Kiss and not have you push him away.

He nodded curtly, once.

“Very well.”

And that was that.

 

-

 

“You’re like a gotdamn Shimada magnet.”

Jesse grinned at you from his doorway. You had just left your own room, ready to head outside and meet up with Hanzo for his “full moon viewing”. His words made your face feel warm, but you tried to act natural.

“Am not.”

“ _ ‘Am not’ _ , darlin’ that drawl is startin’ to turn on immediately when you talk to me.”

You raised your chin just a fraction, making sure your accent was perfectly neutral. “Is not.”

“Is so, and you damn well know it. You can take the kid outta the south, but you can’t take the south outta the kid.”

“What do you want, Jesse?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the door frame.

“Jus’ wanted to see you off on yer date, is all. You look mighty nice tonight.”

You looked down at your pants and light sweater, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m not dressed any nicer than usual.”

“Maybe it’s the glow of excitement ‘bout goin’ onna date with dragon-boy senior.”

That got a snorting chuckle out of you. “Does that make Genji dragon-boy junior?”

“Sure does.”

“Jack-ass,” you laughed fondly.

“So, do you finally believe me?”

Your face went warm again, gaze shifting to the hall wall in shyness. “I guess? It still all feels a little bit… fake.”

“Why do you say that?” The jest was fading from Jesse’s tone and demeanor, sobering him a bit more serious. It made you feel even more self-conscious than you already did, but you gave him a shrug and at least tried to explain yourself.

“Because they’re both really attractive and talented? I don’t get what one of them would see in me, much less both.”

Jesse looked at you with so much perplexity that you almost started to shrink away, anxiety raising over voicing what you always thought when you considered the prospect of romance for yourself, regardless of who with. But he didn’t berate you, sigh in frustration, or anything like that. Jesse pushed up off his door frame and closed the three feet between you in a stride and a half. He didn’t force you to look at him, simply pulled you in for a hug. It only took you a second to return it. His hugs were warm and comfortable.

“Just because yer not attracted to yourself, doesn’t mean yer not attractive to others. Just means yer not  _ your _ type.”

...Oh.

It sounded so simple when he said it like that.

You nodded against his chest, unable to voice a verbal response. Thankfully, he understood you without it, giving you a light squeeze.

“Now get goin’ before dragon-boy thinks yer standing him up.”

Before he sent you off on your merry way, you leaned up to peck a kiss to one of his scruffy cheeks.

“Thanks, Jess.”

You rushed off in such a hurry that you missed the way his tanned cheeks flushed a faint pink, how hard he had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

“Ah hell.”

 

-

 

Hanzo waited for you on the roof of Mei’s lab. It had a perfect view of the sky, full moon shining down so brightly that no lamp was needed to light your way. There was a thermos of hot tea waiting for your arrival, and a blanket to sit on. You were glad you’d put on a sweater, but were quickly starting to wish it was thicker. The roof was a bit windy.

Then Hanzo greeted you with a smile so easy that you almost stopped in your tracks, forgetting all about the wind.

“Good evening.”

“H-hey.”

Shit, was he always so handsome? You sat down next to him, gratefully accepting the cup of tea he offered you.

“It’s a little nippy up here,” you commented, taking a sip of the hot drink.

“Nippy?” He repeated with a confused frown.

“Oh, uh, chilly. Cold.”

“Ah.” He sipped from his own tea. “Yes, I suppose it is… nippy.”

“It’s lovely, too.” You looked up at the moon as you said it. The night sky really did look marvelous from the vantage of the Watchpoint.

“Very lovely.” Hanzo wasn’t looking at the moon, though. You could feel his dark eyes on you, it brought up goosebumps on your skin. Or maybe that was the cold. Probably both. After a few moments, he put his tea down, clearing his throat lightly. You always took that as his way of asking for your attention without having to, you know, ask for it.

So you gave it to him.

“I did ask you to join me tonight to share more than the view.”

You shifted the way you were sitting to face him more. Hanzo really did look so relaxed, more so than you could ever recall seeing. Was he really that comfortable around you? To let his guard down so much?

“Have you heard any stories about the Shimada clan?”

Your head tilted slightly.

“Like what?”

“About our ancestors, our lineage.”

When you shook your head, he smiled faintly. As though glad that you would be hearing it from him first.

Under the light of the full moon, Hanzo told you what sounded like a bedtime story. About two dragon brothers and the power that divided them. Hanzo turned out to be a talented storyteller. His voice, deep and confident, only helped in painting the portrait before you. At points, it softened, the look in his eyes turning glassy and far-off. You could easily guess why. The parallels between his story and what you knew of his and Genji’s past was haunting. Without thinking, you placed a comforting hand over his. His voice died in his throat for a moment.

“Ara iyada, your fingers are like ice.”

Before you could apologize or protest that you were fine, Hanzo was already taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. It was a sudden warmth that your skin sang for. Okay, maybe you hadn’t been fine.

“But what about you?”

He was only wearing a t-shirt underneath. A very well-fitting t-shirt, with a v-neck, that showed off absolutely all of his chiseled chest and biceps. Good lord. He chuckled, snapping your attention back up to his face. Oh, you were totally staring, he caught you staring.

There was a pleased smirk on his lips. “I will be fine. I was going to remove it anyway to show you… Well, you will see.”

You nodded, letting him finish his story, glad that it had a happy ending.

“That tale has been passed down from father to son for many generations, and not without reason. Only a Shimada can control the dragons, you see.”

It slowly clicked in your mind what he was talking about and you suddenly sat up straighter, eyes wide. Lena had told you about Genji and Hanzo’s spirit dragons they could call upon for help during a fight. You’d yet to witness it yourself, which caught your attention all the more. Your gaze flickered down to the tattoo that covered Hanzo’s left arm. It was difficult to see details in only the light of the moon, but you’d seen it plenty before. It was a gorgeous piece of work.

Hanzo shifted so that he was facing you, sitting on his knees. Without thinking, you put your tea down and sat the same way.

“Would you care to meet them?”

“Meet them?” You weren’t sure you understood, but Hanzo reached forward to gently hold hold both of your hands in his, aloft between you. Your heart thumped so loudly.

“It isn’t often, but when I feel comfortable around someone. When I feel… safe, I can call forth the dragons  _ outside  _ of battle. It’s much different, and they won’t be able to stay for long, but if you are willing, I would like to show them to you.”

He couldn’t look at you as he said it. For the first time ever, Hanzo looked so tentative, unlike his usual confidence. His gaze remained on where your hands joined, until he finally dared glance up at you.

You finally understood what people meant when they described their hearts skipping a beat.

There was so much Hanzo wasn’t saying, clouded in his dark eyes, and it was all for you. It was you he’d asked to join him here, you he wanted to share such a well-guarded part of himself with. No one else. He’d chosen you.

When words failed to squeeze through your throat, you nodded, swallowing the tightness as hard as you could.

“I think I’d like that.” You sounded so faint, but he heard you and smiled in relief. You were open to this, to him.

Still holding your hands, he took a deep breath and let his eyes slide shut. Even the wind seemed to still around you.

_ “Arawareru.” _

Blue light outlined the figure in his tattoo, glowing brighter by the second. Until it peeled itself away from his skin, unwinding and growing larger as it swirled through the air. The dragon was made of pure light, yet was solid as it looped around the pair of you. You could only watch in wordless awe as it floated slowly, then peeled apart once again, until there were two dragons. They coiled in lazy circles at first, then seemed to wake up, eyes blinking open.

The looked to Hanzo first, floating over and bumping their heads against his in greeting, making him chuckle. One settled on his shoulders. Despite their metaphysical existence, they were still so very real. Their claws even got caught in his shirt.

“Alright, enough,” Hanzo said with a smile, tiring of the two horned heads rubbing against his face and neck. “We have company.”

One of the dragons had already turned to you, watching you with curious eyes while you stared back.

“This is a… friend of mine.” Both dragons were looking at you now. “We can trust them.”

One of the spirits floated closer, beginning to sniff at you. You tried to remain as still as possible. You knew next to nothing about dragons or if they were easily offended, but Hanzo was trusting you with this, so you had to make a good impression.

Apparently, you succeeded. Light sniffs turned into exploration. It sniffed your face, hair, ears, you even felt a thin tongue in your ear canal. It made you shiver in mild disgust and Hanzo laughed. It hadn’t actually felt wet, though. Next thing you knew, it was diving under Hanzo’s jacket and exploring down the back of your shirt.

A yelp escaped you, straightening up as you felt sharp, little claws in your skin. Hanzo scolded the curious voyager in a stern voice, trying to help extract it from your clothes. But it was a slippery thing, and it’s horns were getting caught in the knitting of your sweater.

“Come back out this instant!”

All too soon, you realized your position, and it seemed Hanzo did as well. He’d ended up so very close, you could feel the warmth of his skin. Did he wear cologne? He smelled  _ great _ . And his face was so very close to yours, lit softly by the moon overhead. The dragon was gone from his shoulders. With the feather-light brush of a bushy tail against your lower back, the other one escaped out of the jacket sleeve. It made you shiver hard and gasp, his gaze falling to your lips.

Time seemed to melt for a moment, slowing down the world around until it was just the two of you left moving. Where he’d been reaching to grab for the dragon menace, he carefully rested his warm hands against your back and side. He looked back up to your eyes, searching for something, leaning ever-so slightly closer.

Was he going to kiss you?

You never got the find out, because both of your comms went off at the same time. So loud and suddenly that both dragons panicked and disappeared in a flash of light. You scrambled for yours while Hanzo retrieved his from the pocket of his jacket.

“Winston wants to see us.” Urgently, according to the message.

“Mm.”

You helped Hanzo clean up the tea and blanket and he helped you climb down from the roof. He was so quiet. Before you made it back indoors, you stopped him.

“Hanzo?”

He turned to you immediately, like he’d been waiting for you to say something first and, suddenly, you didn’t know  _ what _ to say. You really didn’t want to mess this up.

You tried to swallow the dryness in your throat.

“Thank you… for trusting me like that. It really means a lot to me.” Your face was completely sincere. Though it wasn’t quite what Hanzo was hoping you would say, he still felt in his heart that this was heading in the right direction. So he smiled at you, hand finding your again and bringing it up to his lips. The kiss he pecked to your knuckles was so light, yet it felt like fireworks under your skin.

“It means a great deal to me as well.”

 

-

 

What were you going to do.

What were you going to do?????

Throughout your whole life, the Love Boat had  _ never _ docked in your harbor and now, suddenly, your shipyard was booming. And you were. So. Lost. At. Sea.

With a groan, you lifted your face off the table before letting it thunk right back down, posture slumped.

“Please stop doin’ that.”

“Then just shoot me now,” you whined. Actually whined, like a child. You didn’t even care.

Jesse sighed, leaning up from his lounged position. There were playing cards between you in a sad game of poker. Sad, because he was wiping the floor with you. He was wiping the floor with you because you couldn’t stop thinking about the Shimada Dilemma.

“M’not shooting you, now or ever.”

“I don’t know what to dooooo.”

“Well, you should prolly decide soon. It ain’t kind to keep folk waiting.”

You knew that. This was just literally the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. Harder than shooting someone for the first time. Harder than doing taxes.

On one hand was Genji Shimada, who was always super thrilled to see you. Your lessons with him had taken a visible turn. Everything seemed to have new meaning between you. Light touches, laughter; god, he could always make you laugh. He was so much fun to be around, yet was still cool-headed and rushed into nothing without thinking it through. You liked him, you really did. And he’d made it more than obvious by now that he liked you. A lot.

On the other hand was Hanzo Shimada. His personality was vastly different from his brother’s, but you appreciated his calm presence and conversation. Things between you were  _ intense _ right now, too. The way he looked at you wasn’t helping at all. He made you…  _ feel things _ . Inappropriate things. Not on purpose, mind you. It was just clear that he was holding a deep passion for you just under his cool surface. A surface you felt could break at any moment when you were together.

Jesse was right, it was cruel to make either of them wait. The problem was that they were both so different and so  _ great  _ in their own ways.

You needed to make a choice. How in the hell were you going to choose?

Jesse sighed, you weren’t even participating in the game anymore. It was tragic to watch you go down so hard.

“Love is a fickle thing,” he commented lightly.

“What would you do?” You sat up, catching him surprise with how distraught you looked. He considered his answer very carefully.

“It’s a terribly unhelpful thing to say, but...you just gotta follow your heart, darlin’. Your heart always knows what it wants most. Don’t think about it in pros and cons, feel it here.”

He motioned to his own heart, expression serious.

“An’ like I said before. Decide real soon. Y’know… Mei invited everyone to go with her to that Lunar Festival thing. If I were you, I’d try to decide by then.”

Jesse gathered the cards, shuffling them together and slipping them into his pocket. He gave you a tip of his hat before leaving you with your thoughts.

Follow your heart?


	22. Follow your Heart - Hanzo SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continuation of Follow Your Heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short and sweet.

The Watchpoint was awfully quiet with most of its inhabitants missing. Well, they weren’t missing, really. Most everyone had already left for Hong-Kong to join Mei for a Lunar Festival in her hometown. She had been so excited, talking about it for a good week beforehand. She was clearly very proud of her home’s festival.

In all honesty, you’d been looking forward to it, too. Until you learned Hanzo was one of the people who volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on things. Your heart had both jumped and plummeted at the news, it was such a confusing feeling. Almost like nausea? Jesse laughed at that descriptor.

It was just going to be him and that former Vishkar architect. She seemed to still be in mild shock about Vishkar’s true colors, she probably still needed time to process that. You’d all climbed aboard the Orca in the hangar, dressed in festival-wear or just casual clothes, everyone talking excitedly. It felt like one big family vacation. But something was tugging at you, souring your excitement. It felt like you were making a mistake.

One look at you and Jesse could tell. He got your attention and pointed to his chest, just over his heart. You told Winston you needed to get off the ship.

Now the base was near-silent, and it felt somehow suffocating for a moment. No, it wasn’t the silence, it was your nerves. You had no idea where Hanzo might be hiding, you doubted you’d find him in any of the social areas, despite the lack of people around.

Which is why you were so surprised to find him in the recreational hall. You passed the open doorway on your way to your room to change. He sat in front of the television, of all places, flipping through movies with a bag of snacks on the couch next to him. There was also a security datapad on the table in front of him, still dutiful despite relaxing. And he looked very relaxed.

“You are welcome to join me if you wish.” He didn’t look up from the television as he said it, still flipping through various dramas in a plethora of languages. You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to ease, then stepped into the room.

He did a double-take when he looked up at you, eyes widening.

“I… thought you were Miss Vaswani.” He looked you up and down in confusion. “Why are you not going to the festival with the others? You were looking forward to it.”

“I was…” You couldn’t keep doing this to him, to yourself, it hurt. “Hanzo, I think I like you.”

He froze, eyes growing wide once more.

“I mean, I don’t just think it, I do. I like you… as more than just a friend.”

Beyond the pounding of your heart, the room settled quietly, and it only took seconds for your anxiety to sky-rocket. Holy fuck, what if Jesse had been wrong about this? He didn’t like you like that, you were just friends! A friend he really trusted, now you went and made it weird!

“ Oh, thank god.”

You panic tumbled to a halt. Hanzo was already off the couch.

“I thought for certain I had lost your heart to my brother.”

“What? No…” You began shaking your head, rampant emotions trembling in your fingertips. Why did love feel like this? But Hanzo was with you in a single moment, your shaking hands in his, then his arms around you. The cotton of his shirt was soft and you slowly hugged him back, panic easing away. “I’m sorry I waited so long, though, I didn’t-- people don’t usually like me like that, like this. You… like me right? I’m not messing this up?”

Hanzo squeezed you tighter before pulling back only far enough to press his forehead to yours.

“To say that I like you would be putting it mildly.” His smile was so soft, eyes so full of emotion. “My heart is entirely yours.”

Nausea dissolved into something warm, like honey over toast during a lazy morning breakfast. Hanzo loved you, he didn’t have to say the words outright for you to understand, because you loved him too.

“May I…?” The question was breathed between you, unfinished, and your heart continued to flutter.

“Yes.”

You weren’t tangled together under the light of the full moon this time, but his kiss was still perfect. Tentative, then assured when you kissed him back. The skin of his arms around you was smooth as you trailed your fingertips to his shoulders and felt him shiver. You smiled against his lips and he chuckled lightly, pulling back.

“Did you skip the festival to come and confess to me?” His smile edged into being a smirk and you pinched his underarm.

But, in seriousness, you nodded.

“I was getting worried that if I waited any longer, I might miss my only chance. This is more important to me than a festival.”

It was hard to tell in the dim lighting of the room, but you’re pretty sure you saw his face flush a little. Another kiss was pressing to your lips, lingering; his voice a whisper. “I would have waited a lifetime for you.”

Embarrassed, you hid you face in his chest, making him laugh. Then he coaxed you into joining him on the couch for mindless television. He didn’t free you from his touch, though, and you gladly cuddled right up to him, reveling in the new sense of intimacy between you. Sleeping with him in his bed that night just felt like the natural thing to do, not wanting to be separated from him regardless.

Come morning? Hanzo’s wish finally came true.


	23. Follow Your Heart - Genji SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternate ending to Follow Your Heart. Genji-flavored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weeps i'm so soft for genji

You’d never been to a Lunar Festival before, they just didn’t throw them where you grew up. Mei was thrilled that so many of you wanted to join her and she was wearing the cutest dang outfit for it, too. Just adorable. Cute dang outfits weren’t really your thing, personally, but on this occasion, you tried. It took a long time of going through your sad closet, but you’re pretty sure you hobbled together something decent-looking.

The thing you worried most over was the hair comb Genji had given you. You wanted to wear it. It was the prettiest thing you owned, you were certain it was going to look a little bit silly no matter what. You didn't wear pretty things, that was just fact. But you were determined to send a message, so you managed to find a way to wear it in your hair that looked mostly alright.

Everyone on the Orca was excited as Lena flew you all into Hong Kong, and you couldn’t help noticing how Genji kept glancing at you. Jesse noticed, too, because he slouched in his seat to talk oh-so casually.

“You make a decision yet?”

Though shy about it, you smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Good, because dragon-boy junior can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

Your whole body warmed, but you tried to keep from smiling too wide. If Jesse said it, it must be true. You dared to peek over where Genji sat with Zenyatta and noticed him sit up a little straighter. So you smiled at him and he waved back.

“Good heavens,” Jesse chuckled next to you. “You’re both adults, now come on.”

Jesse could make fun of you guys all he wanted, you really couldn’t find it in you to mind. Especially once the ship landed and you all disembarked.

Genji waited for you at the end of the ramp, Zenyatta having apparently gone on ahead. Jesse gave you both a smile and a tip of his hat before he went off with the others, too. You waved him off, turning shyly to the man who had, without question, captured your heart.

“Hey.”

“Hello.” You could hear him smiling under his helm. “I hope you do not mind, but I am hoping you’ll let me accompany you through the festival today.”

“A real festival this time,” you remarked, and he laughed. “I’d really like that, Genji.”

The festival was lively and Mei showed everyone her favorite things. You and Genji both played games, winning small prizes. Genji didn't actually eat anymore, but he was happy to join you in trying new foods. You were having so much fun that the day went by so quickly. Before you knew it, everyone was getting ready for fireworks, kids already running around with sparklers. (You're also pretty sure you saw Lena sprint by with the head of one of those parade dragons, laughing the whole way.)

Genji offered you a sparkler, his own already lit. He held the tip to yours to light it.

“I haven't held one of these since I was a kid.”

Genji chuckled lightly. “I was a menace at festival time, running around with as many as I could carry. It took my family's bodyguards forever to catch me. Something almost always caught on fire.”

“What a gremlin.” You both laughed.

Genji found a surprisingly private place to sit and watch the fireworks. You'd lost everyone else a while back. When he said your name softly, you turned to him. The sparklers already burned out.

“I must admit that I really enjoy spending time with you.”

Warmth returned to your tummy.

“That makes two of us.”

The tips of his fingers were cooler than his palms when he took your hands and slowly raised them to the sides of his helm, then further back. You had to slide closer to him on the bench.

“Here.” He guided your fingers to feel two small compressions. “And here.” Then two more a little further down. “And press.”

You did, and felt the compressions give way, something moving with a click and hiss. His entire helm was coming loose in your hands, heavier than it looked. Gingerly, you eased it off his head.

Until this moment, you had no idea how much of Genji was still organic. He had hair, shiny and black, though kept short. He also had most of a face, skin ending where a synthetic lower jaw began. His eyes were so warm as they gazed at you. You barely even noticed the scars, old and pink.

“Oh.”The skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkled when he smiled.

“A good oh?”

“Yes, good, mm-hm.” You nodded, dropping the helm into your lap. He chuckled again, the sound unfiltered for the first time. It was making you feel light, fluffy things in your chest. “Shit, you're cute.”

You didn't realize you'd said that aloud until Genji scooted just a little bit closer, closing the rest of the space between you.

“I was going to say the same thing about you.”

“Were you?” Your heart was beating so loudly, but you didn't want to pull away, not from this. Not from him.

“I have wanted to say it for quite some time. Among other things.”

You swallowed hard, hugging his helm closer to your stomach when you felt his hand come to rest on the small of your back. “Like what?”

“Like, you are admirably strong of mind. Yet, incredibly kind. You always make me feel lighter when I am around you.” Another hand came to cover one of yours on the helm. “And I would like it very much if you would consider the possibility of us being more than friends.”

You felt breathless, acutely aware of how close the two of you were sitting. The glowing lights of his body were dim and the sun had completely set.

“...That makes two of us.”

His smile was so beautiful and you couldn't help but smile back.

_ “Yosh,” _ he whispered, the space between you closing.

As your lips met, a streak of light in the distance preceded an explosion of color. The fireworks reflected off his armored plating like dancing stars and his kiss burned sweetly under your skin. Like being with him was more than just right, it was fate.

The fireworks were beautiful, you were sure, but losing yourself in the nirvana of his touch was definitely worth missing them for.


	24. Follow Your Heart - McCree SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> secret unlockable alternate ending to Follow Your Heart! McCree-style!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright! this is the last of them!!
> 
> real talk: in MY heart, i consider this one the real, true ending. enjoy.

The Lunar Festival was nothing short of a blast. Mei was so goddamned excited about  _ everything _ . She'd apparently not been to her hometown for quite some time, and was even happier to be sharing it all with people she considered her new family.

And what an interesting sight you all made. As a group, you definitely stood out in a crowd. Especially Winston. But everyone was having a great time, smiling and laughing. Playing games and eating good food. It was the most relaxed you'd all been in a while. A break from trying to save humanity from crumbling in on itself was apparently just what the doctor ordered. (Yanno, that doctor you guys totally didn't have.)

You and Genji had a go at quite a few games together, trying to even the current win count you'd started at the arcade. He was still in the lead, though.

When the sun set, everyone got ready for fireworks, splitting off into smaller groups for the viewing. Genji invited you to join him, something shy in his demeanor. You surprised the hell out of yourself when you politely… declined.

“I'm sorry, Gen. I know that you… I mean, I--”

“It is alright,” he sounded somewhat bittersweet, taking your hand in his for a moment. “You cannot force a heart to love what it does not truly want.”

You still felt kinda bad, though. He brought your hand to the front of his helm, as though he were kissing the back of it, then wished you a good evening. All in all, he took it pretty well. Eugh, why was he so  _ nice _ ?

You found Jesse sitting apart from the crowd because of course he was. He had a cigar stub lit, probably didn't want to be blowing smoke in anyone's face. You, on the other hand, were used to it.

He looked a little surprised when you flopped down next to him with a sigh.

“...I wasn't wrong, was I?”

“Nah, you were right. About a lot of stuff.”

He nodded sagely, like some sort of wise elder. “True, I usually am.”

“Don't push it, cowboy.” You smiled as you said it though, pulling a grin out of him.

“So what about the dragon boys?”

You gave a shrug, then repeated what Genji had said to you, imitating him as best you could. “You cannot force the heart to love what it truly does not want.”

“That's fair.” Jesse looked oddly pleased, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Just because someone likes you, don't mean you gotta like ‘em back. Or anyone at all.”

You knew he was right, but something restless was wiggling around in your chest. You sighed again and leaned against his side, more than appreciating his heat. Pressing your cheek on his shoulder, his warm smell overcame you. He never complained, just kept smoking his cigar and waiting for the show to start.

While the lanterns and decorations around you were very beautiful, you couldn't help your gaze wandering to your friend. Despite knowing he was relaxed, he always had such a serious set to his brow, dark eyes intense on the sky above.

It was no secret that you loved being around Jesse. He was just so easy in his familiarity and friendship with you, like you'd known each other your whole lives. Never once have you felt uncomfortable with him. Only safe, and happy. He just… understood you, it seemed, and never judged you for your misgivings.

You wondered when your feelings for him had started to change; or why you hadn't noticed sooner.

“I think I do, though.”

“Hm?” He tilted his head to blow out a cloud of smoke in the opposite direction.

“Like someone. More than I realized.”

He looked down at you curiously and a worm of insecurity wiggled in your stomach, but you swallowed your fear.

“Follow your heart, right?”

Time seemed to slow down for Jesse. He watched you shift your weight next to him, then lean in to press a very gentle kiss to his cheek. Your lips lingered for a moment and his cigar stub nearly fell out of his mouth.

Did you just risk your entire friendship with your closest friend on base? Yep. But if the grin slowly spreading over his face was anything to go by, you had nothing to worry about. He snuffed his cigar out.

“Your heart bringin’ you here, darlin,?”

“Been bringing me here for a while, cowboy.”

Having him lean in to kiss you felt so natural. His lips soft on yours, tasting of tobacco and ash. You didn't mind the scratch of his beard, even smiled as you raised both hands to pet at his sideburns; raising a pleased-sounding grumble out of him. No doubt even crossed your mind that this was right.

When you both finally eased out of the kiss, you found yourself shivering under the intensity of his gaze. Of course, he felt you shiver and smirked faintly.

“Alright there, sugar?”

You could only smile and whisper, “mighty fine.”

A whistling sound followed a faint streak of light in the sky before color exploded overhead. Jesse glanced to it for a moment.

“C'mere, doll.” You were already sitting next to him, but Jesse clearly wanted you closer and wasted no time in hooking an arm around you to haul you over his lap. You ended up sitting between his legs, settled back against his chest with a perfect view of the show.

It was comfortable, and you relaxed back with a soft sigh. Glad to have trusted your heart,

And that your heart had led you home.

  
  



	25. Double the Trouble - Hanzo SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nexanda: Ok so I've been reading more dragon noodle fics and I had this idea that maybe Hanzo can't really control them bit they're like cats who get up to no good or like toddlers who cause mischief. So when reader is home with Hanzo they wake Hanzo up and blame it on the reader. Play pranks on the reader by setting up some string and pulling it like tug of war to trip the reader over. Just innocent things and the pair figure it out it's them when too many things go wrong and the noodles are like puppies that look super guilty when caught.
> 
> Aka. I need more noodle dragos pls ♡♡♡ hope you're having a good day!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fuggin love them noodley dragons. 
> 
> also! i know these names are commonly used for the dragons, but with soba being genji's dragon and ramen being one of hanzo's. i just personally think genji would name his dragon ramen. that's a me thing. so hanzo has the good ole soba and udon noodles in this.
> 
>  
> 
> full title is: Double the Trouble (But Twice the Fun!)

It tickled, whatever it was. So soft and light, barely grazing against the tip of your nose. Your mind, however, was still swimming in the canals of dreamless sleep, you never even twitched. After a while, the tickling sensation just stopped. Distantly, you could feel movement around your pillow.

The mission you and Hanzo had just gotten back from had been hellish. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, went wrong and then some. Like fate decided to throw a fucking party with chaos and bad luck, and the two of you were their unfortunate neighbors.

_ Thankfully _ , neither of you were seriously harmed. Some pretty harsh bruising at the hands of one mean-looking omnic was about the worst of it. As soon as you'd reached your room, both of you dropped your gear and clothes on the floor and let your souls ascend while your bodies dropped like dead weight into the bed. 

That had to have been somewhere around ten hours ago. Give or take.

Consciousness was returning to you in slow waves, but you refused to move a muscle until you absolutely had to. You felt Hanzo twitch next to you, though. Then again a moment later. After a third twitch, he moved, rolling over somewhat and grumbling in that oh-so deliciously sleep-husky voice.

“Stop.”

You ignored him until he mumbled your name sternly.

“Mm?” Fuck, you sounded halfway dead. 

Hanzo moved again, trying to push what he thought was you away, but the tickling of his nose persisted and you weren't even on that side of the bed. With a swipe at his nose, he felt a familiar fluff yank away quickly and he growled.

“Soba.”

“What?” Your voice cracked, finally trying to peel apart glued eyelids.

Before Hanzo could respond, a heavy serpent-like body ran down the length of his body, to the end of the bed. He grunted at basically being dragon-punched in the stomach, jerking away from the blow, and elbowing you right in the ribs. Ribs that a certain omnic thug had tried to crush.

_ That _ got you to move, albeit pathetically.

You hissed in pain and Hanzo tensed up. The bed suddenly felt like a goddamn battleground. He rolled over, careful to avoid assaulting you with any more joints. You were very slowly rolling towards the edge of the bed, whole body burning with aches. He gingerly stopped your escape, pulling you back to his chest.

“My apologies.”

“I feel like I was run over by a truck.”

“We  _ were _ hit by a truck, my dear.”

“...Oh, right.”

Your boyfriend carefully wrapped you up in his arms, both of you already slipping off into sleep once more.

Only to have two weights leap back onto the bed. One pouncing over your torsos, the other sitting resolutely on Hanzo's shins. More grunts and groans erupted from the pair of you.

For being spirits comprised of pure light, those little monsters were  _ heavy _ .

“Get. Down.” 

Hanzo pushed the comforter back to clearly see a dragon snout peering at him two inches from his face.

“Soba.” A thin tongue flicked out to touch his nose. “Get off the bed.”

At that, the dragon on his shins made a sound you had come to associate with whining. Both of you looked down to find Udon sitting up with the ceramic food dish you'd gotten them clamped in its mouth. It's eyes were begging.

“...You do not need food for sustenance. Put it back.”

Udon only whined louder, pawing at the blankets, sharp claws catching in the fabric.

“We will not be debating this.” Hanzo sounded so tired, but still resolute as he tucked his face into the nape of your neck.

Until Udon huffed and let the dish drop from its mouth directly onto Hanzo's kneecap. Both dragons scattered as the man yelled and lunged up to grab at them. But the blankets got caught in Soba's claws, ripping them off the bed as they fled. 

“Pests!”


	26. Short and Sweet - Genji NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, i want to make one thing clear!!  
> THIS IS STILL GENDER NEUTRAL (or non-binary, if you prefer!) BUT THE READER'S GENITALIA IS FEMALE.  
> i wrote it for myself, mostly. a vagina does not a woman make! idk i just haven't been having a great week.

You weren't sure how you got to this point, but you were _not_ going to complain.

Not when Genji had zeroed in on a spot of skin just under your ear that was making you weak with every nibble and suck. Especially not when cool metal fingers were being generously warmed between the folds of your labia. Every hot breath that puffed passed your lips was laced with a soft moan, head tilted back on his shoulder. You were soft, compliant as his free hand trailed feather-light touches over your skin. Down your side, over your mound, up the side of your tummy to find and gently circle a nipple. You did nothing to stop him and nothing to help him.

Just like he wanted.

As heat coiled tightly in your core, your eyes fluttered open to find his gaze intense on your face. Watching you with a symphony of emotions. The strongest was love, complete adoration spilling over your skin like a warm bath. The lust was almost as strong and had you shivering, legs almost clamping shut as you started to peak.

From your neck, he pressed wet kisses over your jaw, whispering in your ear just as your orgasm began to sweep you away.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey did you guys know that talking to you folks is half the fun of this for me? ;-; please come say hi or something. if you want to. i'm a mostly nice person, i swear.


	27. Hell On Wheels - McCree SFW(?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> swimming_in_hope: Hello, again!! : ) Just wanna' say once more that--holy crap, your works are incredibly swoon worthy. I can really see the careful craft as well as the time you put into these pieces and they are absolutely enchanting :-)) I especially loved your latest one. Although as much as I adore some Hanzo AHAHA I was thinking, is it possible to do a McCree/Reader fic? I just watched Reunion again and was feeling excited and adrenaline pumped for some comedy with action. Perhaps it's a day or two from the timeline within the short and Jesse McCree is simply riding his (Ashe's) motorbike on a dusty, quiet road heading somewhere important..when he hears music blaring from that roofless car the reader is carelessly driving not too far behind him. They end up drifting side by side in the road and they share a look, then a few laughs maybe--when his motorbike breaks down incidentally and they're in the middle of nowhere, but hey the reader is wild enough to help hitch a stranger a ride. ---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---Then it's all fun and games for a few minutes when Deadlock suddenly starts hightailing angrily behind him and the Reader and McCree make an unlikely duo trying to do a car chase and fight bad guys for time being. Strangers comically struggling to cooperate basically, because holy hell how does this guy know how to shoot like that? And why is he so dangerous?? And why do they likE IT?? SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG.  
> \------------------------------  
> child i had to split that bc it went over the chapter summary character limit lmao.  
> Anyway! I LOVED THIS. though i tried to not go quite as overboard as i did last time. i have no idea if i succeeded.  
> (and thank you so much for your nice words! that's really sweet of you!)

There’s a beauty in the desert most people can't see. Beyond the sun-cracked earth and miles of rock, cliff, and scrub lands. It's in the hardy plant life that refuses to be kept down by the harsh heat. Not only hardy, but beautiful. Cacti bloom in pinks and whites, succulents drink in the rays, covering the earth in lush greens and purples. The mountains raise in orange and red and can be seen for miles, and miles, and miles.

But nothing can ever hold a candle to the majesty of the sky. Vibrant and endless, it's no wonder so many painters are drawn to its splendor. _Compelled_ to try and capture it's true wonder, yet none of it even comes close to standing under the real thing.

The entire time McCree spent away from the desert, he'd carried it in his heart, knowing he'd come back some day. He'd been right. It was his home, after all. The sands could change, the towns and cities could expand and contract,  but it would always be home.

Dry wind in his hair brought a smile to his face as he sped down the highway. Even with everything that had been on his mind lately, a ride could always clear out the dust between his ears. Courtesy of an old friend, to boot.

He chuckled to himself, the sound lost on the wind.

After a few peaceful moments, there came the tell-tale whirring of a car approaching from behind, though it was hard to distinguish under the much louder blare of music. A somewhat confused smirk raised on his lips. Was that… classic rock? It sounded older than his mama.

A glance in one of his mirrors showed a hell of a dust cloud raised up behind a speeding convertible Cadillac, top down. It didn't take all that long for it to catch up, as fast as they were going, and they wasted no preamble about moving out from behind him into the oncoming lane, which was presently empty.

McCree looked over and set eyes on you for the first time.

Maybe it was your wind-blown hair and mirror-reflective sunglasses, or your simple country attire (not altogether different from his own, albeit without body armor or weapons), but McCree felt like he was witnessing something rare and unexpected. Like when a cactus blooms blue.

The Cadillac was custom, sharp fins and a paint job that depicted flames from black to yellow. The words _El Diablo_ were painted on the side in stark white and the interior was white leather and chrome. You didn't match it at all, aside from maybe the sunglasses.

“See something you like, cowboy?”

You had to shout to be heard over the wind, having turned the music down. It was then he realized you weren't passing by, despite having hauled ass to get alongside him.

“Nice car,” he tossed back. “El Diablo?”

“In the flesh.” There was a smirk on your face that hid secrets, an inside joke with yourself. McCree couldn’t help smiling back. “That thing got some speed?”

He looked down at the bike, then back at you.

“Dunno, does yours?”

“Don’t know.” You revved the engines, pulling ahead for just a moment. “Wanna find out?”

McCree laughed, revving the bike himself. “After you.”

With a grin, you floored it and took off, kicking the dust up again, but McCree didn’t mean to be left in it. Quickly shifting gears, he took off after you. The road was empty for miles; a long, straight stretch disappearing towards the horizon with nothing to stop the two of you from pushing the limits of speed. You stayed in the lead for the most part, occasionally slowing down on purpose to let him catch up a bit and toss him a cheeky little wink before you took off again. McCree found he didn’t much mind losing. Wind-blown and laughing, you were a sight prettier than the sunrise.

And then the bike died.

The propulsion system suddenly gave out, crashing it onto the broken concrete and skidding sideways. McCree barely jumped off in time for it to start rolling, and it came to rest halfway off the road.

McCree brushed himself off, putting his hat back up on his head to block the sun and spitting onto the road before he approached the bike.

You had swung around when you realized he wasn’t with you anymore, and eased to a stop close by, leaning up over the door.

“Didya push your bicycle too hard?”

He chuckled, pulling out a fresh cigar and shoving it between his teeth to chew on while he gave the bike a once-over. Truth be told, though, he wasn’t much of a mechanic.

Your boots crunched on sand and asphalt as you joined him, dropping to a kneel by the engine casing.

“Mind if I?”

He took the time to look you over, sunglasses pushed up on top of your head, letting him see your eyes. You caught him staring, smirk ghosting around your lips.

With a tip of his hat, he consented. “By all means.”

He watched you pop the casing open and fiddle around inside. After a moment or two, you let out a snorting laugh.

“You fried the power cells.” Delicately, you pulled one of them out, hissing and dropping it on the ground while it smoked. It was definitely done for. Damn Ashe, would have thought you’d have a bike capable of more than that. He stood up straight looked up and down the road.

“Well now, since this is kinda your fault, consider this my thumb out.”  
“What? What’s that, cowboy?” You jumped up, running to the Cadillac and jumping onto it. You sprawled out into a lounge on the hood, head propped up on your arm, glasses dropping back down onto your nose. “You askin’ for a ride from El Diablo?”

He laughed, lazily stepping closer as he appraised you. “Nah, but I’m askin’ for a ride from you.”

“Better choice, anyway.” With zero care, you stood up on the hood and hopped over the windshield into the driver’s seat, poking the unlock button. “Well, get in. Unless you’re itchin’ to stick your leg out, first. In which case, I’m watching, feel free.”

Something about you was so ridiculous and confident, yet lacking a care in the universe. Like you were only existing right now, in that moment with him; no where else in the world. A wild card. A rare breed. He was almost tempted to humor you.

Instead, he swung into the passenger’s seat, moving it back to give him more room for his legs.

“We goin’ somewhere specific?” You didn’t start the car right away, turned in your seat to him. The interior was so white that it reflected the sun almost painfully. He understood your need for sunglasses now. He also noticed that your boots were dirty and you gave zero shits about the stains your were leaving on the white carpet underfoot.

McCree looked down the road, pointed and said, “that'a way.”

“That'a way sounds fine.”

With a crank and a rev, you took off. McCree barely had a chance to smack his hand atop his hat before it flew off. However, you didn't go _quite_ as fast as before, obviously in no hurry to get anywhere ever. It was enchanting McCree more than he cared to admit.

“So what's your name? Don't you dare say El Diablo. El Diablo is a five-foot-two Mexican man, bald on top with a beard. He ain't you.” He finally lit his cigar as he said it, smoke snatched away by the wind.

You only grinned wider, reclining as you drove one-handed.

“Do I really need one?”

“What, a name?”

“Maybe you should pick one out for me, cowboy.”

The smile on your face had him laughing, “bad idea.”

“I disagree! In fact, I'm right curious to know what you'd pick.”

He was sure you were looking right at him, though he could only see himself in the reflection of the lenses. Your smile was real, but still as private as the Mona Lisa’s. He took a puff of his cigar and considered you.

The sun had moved to the other side of the horizon, turning it's light orange and pink over you both, sharpening your profile. McCree caught himself considering what your lips might taste like..

Before he could throw out a half-assed suggestion, the instantly familiar popping of gunfire drew both of your attention. It was distant, and the two of you turned around in your seats to look down the road behind you.

A dust cloud that made yours look like a puff was rearing up behind what looked like several vehicles. Motorcycles, to be exact, speeding towards you like hell's flames was licking their tires. You watched with a crease of slight worry between your eyebrows, but McCree cursed.

“Friends'a yours?”

“Somethin’ like that. You mind hittin’ the gas there, darlin’?”

“As long as ‘darlin’ ain't my name.”

You floored it, shooting down the road. A few more gunshots were heard over the blustering wind before the distinct sound of a bullet ricocheting off the back of the car.

“Hope you're not attached to this paint job.”

“Hate it, actually.”

McCree un-holstered Peacekeeper, climbing into the back seat. The bikes had caught up to Ashe's, most of them stopping, thankfully. Except for two. Two that were speeding towards you much faster than Ashe's bike had gone. McCree cursed again.

They were gaining ground, enough to hear them angrily shouting.

“McCree! You lily-livered sonnuva--”

You laughed loudly over the wind. “The _language_ on that one.” Another shot rang out, much closer. It put a hole in through the passenger-side headrest and your laugh turned a little nervous. “Hey cowboy, you got a plan for that peashooter, or is it just for show?”

Flicking his cigar to the wind, he turned to flash you a cheeky grin with a matching wink.

“You want a show, darlin’? Then just step right up.” The world slowed down just a fraction and his biotic eye zeroed in on two targets, marking them red. “It's high noon.”

Two shots, no more, and both bikes were crashing into the road, their drivers thrown forward comically. It got a chuckle out of him. When he looked back at you, though, you were giving him a wry expression.

“...It's almost six in the evening.”

McCree sighed, making sure no more Rebels were following them before climbing back into his seat.

“Everyone's a critic.”

“Oh? You get that a lot, Mr. McCree?”

You were smiling again and it drew another chuckle out of him.

“You can just call me McCree. ...Or Jesse if you'd like.”

“Jesse, huh? Ain't that a fem name?”

He hit you with his hat, digging a regular-ass cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it while you laughed.

“Its an everyone name.”

“If you say so, cowboy.”

 

You stopped off in a nowhere town to refuel and grab just a ton of snacks and water that you paid for with crumbled bills smelling vaguely of weed. You even filled up a gas can from the car trunk, even though the Cadillac was a Gen 8 Hybrid. McCree was waiting for you back in the passenger’s seat when you came around from shutting it in the trunk.

It was clear you had no goal in mind as you hit the road again, you were just enjoying the experience. Then the sun truly began to disappear and you took a sharp turn off-road, into the desert where you finally stopped. Quietly, you shared the snacks and water, just staring at the endless ocean of stars above. You were beautiful in the moonlight, too. Your lips tasted like the fifth of whiskey McCree kept on hand, but Jesse couldn't stop kissing you once he started.

You didn't want him to, either. As he fucked you hard into the back seat, you begged for more, harder, faster, _yes right there_ , _Jesse!_ Then you finished the whiskey and went at it again on the car hood. Slower this time, surprisingly passionate. You were insatiable and McCree was no better. Just being around you felt like some sort of contact high.

Curiously, once you'd both caught your breath and shared soft smile-laced kisses, and pulled your clothes back on, you made him get out of the car.

Not to leave him behind, no.

No, you poured that container of gas all over the Cadillac and set the fucker ablaze. Then you just watched it burn. Your smile was gone, all traces of humor and joy went with it. You stared at the wreck with haunted eyes and a devil on your shoulder.

McCree was gripped with an urge to hold you, but bit it down. He wasn't sure you'd welcome it. He also knew better than to ask, yet found the question stumbling out of his mouth anyway.

“Not worried about El Diablo comin’ after you for that?”

A scoff-like laugh left you, no real humor in it.

“I would be _truly_ impressed if he did.”

You needn't say more, McCree understood you perfectly. Quickly clearing a spot on the ground with a swipe of his hat, he sat down and got comfortable. Even pulling out his last cigar to light up. He didn’t ask questions, he just left you to watch the flames climb into the night sky. Smoke mingling with the constellations. If you let out a soft sob or two, well, he wasn’t gonna hold it against you.

“Take your time, Lucy.”

“...Lucy?” There were tears in your voice, but it didn’t waver.

McCree leaned back on the sand, tilting his hat back to see the sky better.

“Short for Lucifer.”

".....I like that."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got in my d.va meka headset i ordered. time to play comp like a total nerd. if you want to see photos, you can check my twitter @seamobeemo


	28. To Shatter The Land - Genji SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directionally_Challenged: A gods & goddesses AU where Genji is a god of earthquakes (I just feel like it's fitting) and reader is a foreign adventurer/minor deity/warrior who accidentally stumbles upon his "humble" abode and is taken in by some servants while trying to escape a storm (caused by our local disgruntled storm god Hanzo). Genji catches wind of the supposedly breathtaking new guest and visits them, deciding almost immediately that he was to try and woo them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept a hard ancient Greek gods tone in my head for this. i like the thought that gods were just bored all the time and did stupid shit for fun. anyway i think this turned out alright. thanks for requesting!

You were as swift on your feet as a summer breeze, but that meant almost nothing against holy lightning. It cracked at your heels as you ran, the heat and tingle raising hair on your skin as you barely managed to dodge getting struck.

Just grab a bottle of sake, they said. He won't miss it, they said. _Liars_.

You weren't a demigod, necessarily. But your father was favored heavily by the gods, meaning you and all of your siblings had been given _gifts_ at your christenings. As adults, this naturally led to… pissing contests. Who could out-do who. Who was faster, stronger, smarter than the others. The dares were really starting to get dangerous.

Thunder roared overhead and electricity crackling in the air around you as you sprinted. You didn't even want the damn sake, you wanted to live! But you also knew you couldn't return empty-handed. Your siblings already considered you the weakest of them. You couldn’t let them be right.

Blue dragons whipped through the storm clouds, hot on your trail as you navigated the rocky, foreign terrain. This path was unknown to you, but there was no time to find your bearings. The lightning strikes were coming faster.

You bounded over a few small boulders, heading for the nearby mountain, when you suddenly found yourself at a dead-end. It was a wide, open clearing at the base of a sheer cliff. No exit and nowhere to hide. Your heart nearly stopped, but your feet didn't. Maybe you could cat-tail and throw them off.

The enormous and serpentine body of a dragon dropped out of the sky, landing heavily and cutting off the path you entered from, snarling. Your momentary hesitation at the sight distracted you from the second dragon that came thundering down from the heavens, right in front of you.

You barely stopped in time, skidding to a halt, grazing your knees on the ground. The pain was sharp but ignorable. You had much, _much_ bigger problems.

The dragon blocking the path reared up, a voice not it's own grumbling from its maw.

_“T h i e f.”_

You almost dropped the golden gourd right then and there, but pride kept it in your grip. You could get out of this, you had to.

_“Do you have any last words, thief?”_

The clearing held nothing, not even rocks big enough to throw. As fast as you were, you were also surrounded, and you fell to your bloody knees, closing your eyes.

You thought of your mother, sweet and kind, and of your holy father. His unshakable devotion was always rewarded, the gods always there when he needed them. You had no gods on your shoulders, only the wind in your feet and a fire in your heart. Neither could protect you from a dragon's teeth.

So you squeezed your eyes tighter shut, gripping the dirt beneath your palm and gourd held tight to your chest.

“...Please, help me.”

Both dragons reared up, ready to strike.

And then the land cracked in two.

The earth gave a mighty shake as a fissure formed in the clearing. The dragons released furious howls, but it was joined by another. You stumbled back, falling to your ass, as the crack widened and a third sacred beast crawled out.

This one was green, like the lush forests of home, with sharp eyes and wicked claws. However, it's focus was not on you, but the two dragons around you. It slithered out of the earth, its body coiling to shield you from their sight as it roared again. It was somewhat bigger than the others, more intimidating.

_“Enough!”_

With a crack of lightning, the blue dragons coalesced and reformed in a flash of pure light you had to look away from. Instead, there now stood the imposing figure of Hanzo the Dragon Storm God. The scowl on his face was livid.

“Genji! How _dare_ you intervene!”

The green dragon laughed, it's body melting away until another man stood before you. He appeared youthful and vibrant, with an easy smile. But you weren't fooled. The glamour of gods could not be pulled over your eyes.

“You forget, brother, that you are standing on _my_ lands.”

“To punish a trespasser, and a thief.” The Storm God growled the words, but Genji the Dragon Earth God merely laughed again, casually pulling you to your feet and tossing an arm around your shoulders.

“You mean this one?” Frozen with fear, you let the gourd go when he took it from your hand, shaking it a little in the direction of his brother. “I sent them.”

You gawked at the god using you as an armrest, but he simply continued.

“They're a Lightfoot, you see. I wanted to test how quickly they could run from my palace to yours, then back again. But I needed them to bring something back to prove they'd done it.” He popped the cork out of the gourd and took a generous gulp of the glittering liquid. “Their time was most impressive.”

He then held the gourd to your lips, intensely dark eyes trained on yours. You felt yourself flush from your ears all the way down into your toes, but you also shook your head slightly. You knew better.

The Storm God’s scowl only deepened as he watched Genji watch you intently. You weren't certain if he bought the lie, but he eventually scoffed.

“Leave me out of your pointless frivolity.”

As he turned to leave, Genji gave him pause. “Brother.” He held the gourd out, but Hanzo turned up his nose.

“Keep it.”

In another flash of light, he transformed into dragons once more, both leaping into the sky, the thunder finally beginning to fade away.

“You're certainly a brave one, to steal from my brother like that.”

The Earth God gave you the gourd back and stepped away from you, providing a more respectable distance. You had no idea what to say back, shock still draped over your mind. But that didn't stop your mouth from blurting out your first thoughts.

“Why did you lie for me?”

His handsome smile went a little crooked in confusion.

“What do you mean, why? You asked for my help.” The blankness of your expression only furthered his confusion. “You left a blood offering on the altar basin and asked me to help you.”

You looked down when he pointed to the two bloody imprints your knees had made on the ground, then you looked around the clearing.

“This is an altar?”

Genji stood up a little straighter, something like pride in his posture.

“Of course it is. This mountain is my palace, can’t you see it?”

You couldn’t and shook your head to tell him that. That intensity was still in his eyes as he looked at you. “In that case.” He moved in close again, a pair of hands coming to gently rest on the sides of your head. When you realized he was intending to kiss you on the forehead, you ducked down out of his hold, dropping the gourd.

“What are you doing?”

He paused in surprise, then laughed, loud and long.

“I am simply blessing your sight. May I do that?”

You weren’t sure, but, well, he was a god and he did just lie to his brother for you. A brother you stole from, who rightfully deserved to punish you. You stood up straight again and gave him one, single jerky nod.

There was a smile on his lips as he gently pressed them to the very top of your nose, right between your eyes. They were warm, and soft.

You opened your eyes not realizing you’d closed them, and it felt like having a thin layer of film pulled away. You realized you weren’t just standing at the bottom of a cliff, but at the base of an edifice so tall and wide that you’d never seen another building on earth like it. Sure, the palaces of the gods were grand, but the sheer size of this one awe-inspiring.

“Welcome to my home.”

You jumped slightly, having gotten so caught in wonderment that you’d forgotten he was still right there next to you, close enough to kiss again. To have him kiss again. Kiss you. Your forehead. That.

But he didn’t, he took a step away and offered you his hand.

“If you are not in a hurry, I would be happy to give you a tour.”

Your hand was in his before you really even thought about it, and his smile was even more brilliant than before. Before he whisked you away, he laid a healing touch to your knees and you never once felt pain.

Still light on your feet, you followed the Earth God into his mountain home, leaving behind two bloody knee prints… and a gourd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Hanzo = 2 dragons  
> 1 Genji = 1 dragon  
> ???


	29. Alexithymia Part 5 - Reaper SFW(mostly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well.
> 
> That didn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRAMA is what this is. (also long). (it was going to be longer, but i refrained).

It wasn't intended to turn out like this, but in a world as chaotic and unpredictable as the one you lived in, every variable could not always be accounted for. You, of all people, knew perfectly well how quickly a single, unforseen reaction could chain into disaster.

You were the furthest thing from a field agent, a scientist through-and-through. Yet, when you told Gabriel that you were missing something, something important, he agreed to help you find it.

The trouble was, you wouldn't know it until you saw it. So, Reaper put together an assignment, something simple, mere reconnaissance from the council's perspective. It got you and Sombra a ride in a dropship with four foot soldiers, gliding your way discreetly towards what public record showed was a simple storehouse in Britain. UN records, however, listed it as the storehouse where they'd taken any unidentified Blackwatch research during O'Deorain's time there. After the organization was disbanded, a lot of storehouses like it popped up. No one truly wanted to go through Blackwatch's paperwork, not beyond what they'd needed for the trial. So it was left to decay.

It should have been relatively simple. Sombra would turn off the alarms and camera feeds, then you were going to rifle through Moira's junk while the soldiers kept guard. Everything went smoothly, too, at first. It spiked a thrill in you to be so very far outside of your lab, but still working! 

Then  _ they  _ showed up.

There was gunfire, lots of it. One of the soldiers tried to escort you back to the safety of the dropship, but you didn't make it. The rest was a blur. Judging by the way your head throbbed from one centralized location on your skull, you're guessing someone knocked you out.

Perhaps it was the intimidating woman who stared hard down at you. Tall, well-built, tattoo under her right eye. You took in details quickly to stave off panic.

“Tell me who you are.”

They'd taken you somewhere, but the small, white room gave little in the way of clues. Just the chair you sat in.

“We already know you work for Talon, and you didn't put up much of a fight.”

You gave a simple shrug. With your hands bound behind your back, you could do little else. Your silence was frustrating the woman, clearly, because she scowled at you. Closing in certainly made her more intimidating, but you weren't afraid. You've met much more intimidating people in Talon.

Her dark eyes bore hard into you, but you refused to even twitch.

“What were you looking for in that warehouse?”

The door opened, an omnic stepping inside. His lights were a lime green, posture serious. He passed a datapad to the woman and gave her a nod to back off. Then he focused on you, stepping even closer than she had, and hand landing on your shoulder.

He was silent for several long moments, but when he spoke, it was with an even tone.

“Spit it out.”

You swallowed tightly at the back of your throat, but did not comply. He leaned down close, speaking for only you to hear.

“You can spit it out, or I can remove it. I assure you the second option will not be pleasant.”

The edges of the data chip dug into the roof of your mouth, keeping it tightly in place with your tongue. The omnic, however, did not seem to be using any sort of bluffing tactic. You stared at each other while you made a quick choice.

As soon as you moved to swallow the chip, a quick hand shot out and gripped you tightly by the throat, constricting both air and your ability to swallow.

“I warned you.”

He was right, it wasn't pleasant. Your jaw ached afterwards, throat scratchy, but it was too late. He handed the wet chip off to the woman with the pad before turning back to you. 

“Thank you for your cooperation, doctor.”

You had to blink quickly to clear the blurriness from your eyes, frown touching your lips.

“How do you know I'm a doctor?”

“We found your previous employment records with the Center for Disease Control, where you were terminated for unauthorized experimentation with deadly viruses. Is that not correct?”

Your frown deepened for just a moment, then evened right back out. You fixed your posture as well as possible considering the restraints and responded plainly. “That is correct.”

“However, that was some time ago, several years, but we could not find any records of current employment. Have you been with Talon the whole time?”

“I don't know anything, I'm just in research. I'm hardly important.”

His head tilted. “Research into what?”

The woman behind him made a sound of frustration, drawing his attention.

“There is hardly anything on this. Just old lab notes.” She was going through the chip on the datapad, flipping through the different files. “What does any of this mean?”

She pushed off the wall, practically shoving the pad into your face, one file still left on screen. Your heart stopped.

That was  _ it _ .

Your eyes scanned every word and symbol on screen, quickly categorizing everything you saw in its correct order. Pure shock alone kept you from grinning.

“What is it?!”

“ _ Fareeha _ .” You looked up and around, the voice coming out of a speaker somewhere. “ _ Please bring the chip to my lab _ .”

She was clearly reluctant, but ultimately left the room. The omnic, however, stayed. He was quiet, which you didn't mind. It gave you a moment to close your eyes and center yourself. You had what you needed, but you also knew you would not be successful if you attempted to escape. The omnic was very fast, you remember that much from the ambush.

“Research into what?” He asked again, intent on getting some kind of answer out of you.

Looking up at him, you offered only a polite smile. Nothing more.

Ultimately, they left you alone in that small, white room, cuffed to a chair.

Hours passed, your joints were going stiff but that was merely your body. As long as you stayed centered, you would be fine. You were already mentally putting together new equations and formulas with the information you saw. The missing pieces.

The omnic eventually came back to inform you that they were going to be handing you over to Interpol. Along with the chip, which they didn't believe bore information relevant enough to their own cause.

Arrested, that was… unfortunate. 

The omnic freed you from the chair and showed you to a holding cell. He obviously didn't see you as a physical threat, and rightly so. You weren't a fighter, you were a thinker.

A thinker left alone with their thoughts.

Well, their thoughts and a stiff cot in another small room. How had this gone so wrong? While Interpol couldn't charge you with a specific crime, they could charge you simply for working for Talon. If they had proof. Perhaps you could loop around this somehow?

What would Reaper do?

Probably kill someone, or multiple someones. That wouldn't help you. Gabriel…

You missed him, despite seeing him less than twenty-four hours ago. He'd been somewhat hesitant to let you do field work, and had given Sombra a firm warning about watching out for you. You hoped she was okay, you aren't sure what happened to her during the fight.

With little else to do, you laid back on the bed, closed your eyes and thought about Gabriel. (It was quickly becoming a favored past time.)

 

-

 

This was your first time inviting him inside. You're certain he's been in your condo before, but he accepted the invitation with some hesitancy. 

Your things were dropped rather unceremoniously on the hall table, waving a hand at the general areas of the place. 

“Feel free to sit or stand wherever you wish. You're welcome to come over whenever you'd like.” Was that how relationships worked? Where you  _ in _ a relationship?

Gabriel looked around briefly, then passed you to go upstairs. Well, you did say wherever he wished. After checking your mail and messages, you went that way as well, watering various plants as you passed them. Gabriel was in your room. His mask sat on the desk as he was looking over the books on your shelf. When he saw you'd joined him, he gestured idly to the pajamas laid out on your bed.

He wanted to pick out your pajamas? Interesting.

“Thank you.”

You didn't think twice about undressing in front of him to change. Before you pulled the shirt on,  however, something cool and sharp trailed oh-so gently up your spine. You looked over your shoulder at Gabriel, but he was focused on grazing the tip of one of his gauntlet claws over your skin. He wasn't pressing at all hard and left little more than a pink line.

You did not mind the touch, though a shiver did shake through you. If you were pressed to be honest, you kind of… liked it. It felt nice.

His eyes raised to yours, the red irises seeming to burn.

“...This okay?”

You nodded before you could find your voice. “Mhm.”

He took a step closer, pulling one gauntlet off to free a pale hand. His skin was cool, but not clammy. It was still a comforting sensation to feel him gently take you by the waist and tug you around the face him. You went willingly, reaching for his other hand to remove that gauntlet as well. Both were tossed on the bed behind you as he pulled you in for kiss.

 

-

 

You didn't make love that night, though you certainly would not have minded. Gabriel needed time, though. He wasn't exactly smitten with his own appearance or existence. His appearance bothered you very little, if at all, but his comfort was very important to you. So you'd wait for it to be okay with him. If ever.

You did, however, sleep together. Well, you're not sure Gabriel slept. He was awake when you fell asleep  _ and _ when you woke up (on his chest, at his insistence). But he stayed in bed with you, stroking your skin and playing with your hair like he couldn't keep himself from touching you. You didn't mind that, either. You never minded his touch.

But that was then, and this was now. If you couldn't find a way to wiggle out of this, you'd likely not be seeing him again. Or your lab, or your life's work. All before you could use the information you now had. 

You needed a way out of this, but you were outmatched physically in every way by those holding you captive. There were also cameras, everywhere. 

At some point during your worrying, sleep took you.

  
  


“Hello? Helloooo? Wake up!”

Your mind snapped to attention immediately, eyes fluttering open to find a woman standing over you. Not one you'd seen yet. Very slim, short brown hair.

She smiled at you, curiously enough.

“Rise and shine! I came to fetch you for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” You felt bleary as you sat up, body stiff from remaining in the same position all night.

“Should be ready by now. Come on. Call me Tracer, by the way. Oi, what's your name?”

You mumbled it after a yawn. Oh you were definitely hungry, and thirsty.

“Well, doc, just follow me!”

You were a prisoner, but she really didn't seem to mind. There was a Talon logo on your jacket, but she chatted with you regardless. Senseless small talk. She had a device strapped to her torso, but you were hardly an engineer. It glowed blue. You finally came to stop and she spun around with a mildly guilty expression.

“I lied about breakfast. I mean, not completely, I'll take you to breakfast after, but Winston wants to talk to you, first.”

“Winston” turned out to be a gorilla in eyeglasses. His lab wasn't much larger than yours, and clearly in a different sort of use. He showed you what was on the chip and asked you a great many questions. He was honestly quite civil, a natural curiosity radiating off of him. He was also incredibly intelligent, it was hard to stop yourself from blurting out why you had needed to see what was on the chip to someone who might actually understand you. Speaking to him only made your excitement stagger higher, but you kept it in. You answered as minimally as possible, and kept your area of study vague.

The encounter was altogether not what you would have expected, considering. The Overwatch recall was certainly playing by its own rules.

Before Winston released you back into the care of Tracer, he solemnly asked why you were wasting an undoubtedly talented mind on Talon. You gave your answer thought.

“They provide me with what I need. They take care of me,” ended up being your answer.

Tracer took you to some kitchens, where a strange-looking array of people and omnics were gathered; some still sleepy-eyed, others wide awake and loud about it. The omnic from yesterday offered you a pleasant wave, even. This place was very strange.

You garnered a few curious looks while you ate quietly at the table, but Tracer was cheery enough to seemingly distract them from the logo on your jacket.

Until the intimidating woman walked in the room.

“What is the prisoner doing out of their cell?”

You merely looked up, still chewing on your toast. Tracer jumped up from her seat.

“Winston wanted to talk to them, then I brought them here for some grub.” 

She didn’t look pleased, but she also didn’t press the issue. She kept an eye on you the remainder of your time in the kitchens, brooding over her mug of coffee.

At some point, it was announced that you were being transported into Interpol custody. Tracer was going to fly you and the intimidating woman (Fareeha, as the others had called her), to a rendezvous point in Britain. You were handcuffed before you were strapped into your seat on the plane.

Fareeha had donned what looked to be a high-tech aerial security suit. She sat with you, everything about her serious and professional. It actually kind of reminded you of Reaper back before you got to know him.

You couldn’t see the clouds as you passed them, but you mentally counted how far away from base Great Britain was. How would you contact anyone back on base if you managed to be released from police custody? A myriad of these types of thoughts were running in circles around your head. It wasn’t until Fareeha jerked upright that you tuned back into reality. She listened for a moment, then vaulted up from her seat.

“Lena--”

“I’ve got them on radar! Two Talon airships coming in fast.”

“...What?”

Fareeha whipped around to you, scowl on her face.

_ “You.” _ She unbuckled you from your seat, dragging you to the back of the dropship and pushing you into a small holding cell. The room seemed all the smaller with her in there with you, suit and all. She shoved you back onto a seat and restrained you to it. Not as though you could ever harm her in that suit. But she didn’t leave like you were expected. No, she removed her helmet and grabbed you by the ear.

“They’re here for you. You  _ know _ something. Tell me what they’re hiding!”

A small spark of fear flared in your stomach for the first time, but you resolutely kept your mouth shut. ...They’d really come for you? Was it Gabrie--

A sharp stinging pain bloomed over your cheek, head snapping to the side when she slapped you. “Say something!”

_ “Pharah, they’ve flanked us, I can’t outrun them, and they’re hailing us. What should I do?” _ Tracer’s voice sounded over the intercom. Fareeha glared at you, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Tell me why they need you so badly, or I will drop you from the cargo door. No ship can drop as fast as a falling human. No one could save you. Now, tell me.”

_ “Fareeha? Faree--!”  _ The intercom system cut out. You glanced away from Fareeha for just enough time to miss her rear back and punch you square in the face.

“Say something!”

She hit you again, then tried shaking you. Or was that the ship shaking? Your head was buzzing, a high pitched tinny picking up in your ears, so it was hard to tell. Something warm was running down your chin.

Fareeha cursed at the sound of a small explosion, the ship jolting again. You were gonna start getting sick soon if all that motion kept up. She tried to jam-lock the door, but a purple skull appeared on the screen and the door zipped right open.

Leaving her facing down the barrels of two modified shotguns. 

Your head was throbbing, pain flaring out from your nose and eye socket. But when you looked up and caught sight of an achingly familiar white mask from around your captor, relief flooded through you in a weightless wave. It was really him.

Fareeha was clearly less pleased to see him. In fact, the glare she pinned on him was so dark and nasty that the way she'd looked at you had been a smile in comparison. 

“Move.” Reaper's tone left no room for defiance, but she defied still as she stood straighter. “... _ I will not repeat myself.” _

“How dare you even speak to me,” Fareeha spat, with just as much venom, but Reaper was not in any mood to play along. He dropped a shotgun and shoved her hard to one side of the room, clearing the path to you. His head tilted briefly in your direction, but you noticed the way his posture stiffened, grip on his other gun tightening.

“Get the doctor onto the ship,” he all but growled to the foot soldiers waiting outside the room. One of them rushed in to free you, then two escorted you from the Overwatch ship to the Talon one waiting alongside it, both maintaining altitude but not going anywhere. It was such a relief to be surrounded by Talon soldiers again, even if none of them liked you on a personal level. You  _ understood _ Talon; you hadn’t understood Overwatch at all.

Sombra was there waiting for you, working her way across three hardlight screens. But as soon as she saw you bleeding, she swiped them away, cursing in Spanish as she dragged you to the ship’s medical bay.

“They didn't like the look of your face or something?”

She was quick to stop-up your nosebleed and clean up all the blood that had poured down your chin and neck. There was no saving your shirt right now.

“A thcary lady thought I knew thomthing important.”

“Well yeah, two Talon airships came to steal you back, I'd probably think the same thing.”

Bloody napkins were tossed in a biohazard bin.

“But I don't know anything important.” You were pretty sure that, were it not for your relationship with Reaper, Talon would have left you to Interpol’s mercy.

Sombra paused disinfecting her gloves to give you a flat look. “Doc, your lab is the fifth most-funded department in the whole organization. Give yourself some credit.”

You blinked at her in surprise, napkin still shoved in your nostrils.  “It ith?”

Before she could make any exasperated comments about the conflicting levels of your intelligence, she became distracted by her comm earpiece, listening for a moment.

“...Got it. Over and out.”

Attention back on you, she pulled the napkin out of your nose and waited, but no fresh blood gushed forward.

“Alright, I got work to do. Wait here for Gabe. Oh, and, doc?” She paused on her way out. “...Sorry about before, at the warehouse. I got pinned down, I didn't even realize they'd gotten you until I was back on the ship.”

Your surprise at her apology must have been evident, because she switched from serious to laughter.

“Don't make that face! Believe it or not, I kinda like you, psycho doc. Woulda sucked to see you go.”

And then she left.

...Were you really a priority funded department? You worked pretty exclusively alone, having never requested lab technicians. You honestly had never had a good experience with them back the CDC. They were almost always young and… talkative. You were priority funded?

With your thoughts whirling around this new information, you cleaned your face again with disinfectant wipes. You were in the process of gingerly dabbing biotic cream to your quickly bruising black eye when the ship finally shuddered with movement. A moment later, the door opened again, letting Reaper in. He closed and locked it behind himself. Then, yanking a glove off, he dipped his finger into the cream to scoop out a generous amount that he proceeded to smear over the lense of the security camera. 

You were still so relieved to see him, but oddly nervous. Unsure if you should thank him for coming for you, or apologize for getting captured in the first place. You got to neither right away, because he tossed his mask aside to get a good look at your eye, pulling his other glove off with his teeth. His nose was nearly completely gone today, you noticed.

“I'm alright,” you promised in a whisper while he carefully tilted your face.

“What else did they do to you?” There was rage boiling under the surface of his calm tone.

“They were surprisingly hospitable, for the most part. Then again, I’m not much of a physical threat.” You tried to smile a little as you said the second part, but it was lost on Gabe right now. His hands left your face, moving to press gently on different parts of your body, but you really weren’t injured otherwise. “She didn’t start hitting me until right before you arrived. I think she was just desperate to get something out of me.”

“But you didn’t talk?”

“I hardly said a thing.”

He nodded, fingers moving from the back of your neck, to feel up the sides and front,  _ that _ was when you finally made a soft sound and red eyes snapped to yours.

“...It doesn’t necessarily hurt anymore.”

“Did someone try to choke you?”

“Choke, no.” You cleared your throat, carefully pulling his hands down into yours to hold. “I found a chip in the warehouse. When we were ambushed, I hid it in my cheek. It was surprisingly still there when I woke up, but a somewhat polite omnic figured it out and removed it when I refused to spit it out. Other than that, he was well-mannered.”

“I’ll kill him.”

That brought a real smile to your face. You knew he really meant it. 

Instead of encouraging it, though, you shyly moved his hands to rest on your waist. First, you let your nose gently trail along the bumpy, scarred skin of his jaw. Then you pressed slow, deliberate kisses across his cheek to his lips, where you stayed. After several seconds, his posture relaxed the slightest bit and he kissed you back. He held you as close as his body armor would allow, not at all eager to let you go again. The longer you kissed, the more desperate it became. You’d missed him and he clearly missed you.

A sound of surprise escaped you when he suddenly picked you up. As he was known to do on occasion; your weight meant nothing to him. He set you down again on the examination table bolted to the floor, parting your knees to stand between them. This time his kiss was passionate, needy. And he didn’t just kiss your lips. Down, over your chin to your neck, he tilted your head back with a grip in your hair and laved his cool tongue over your quickening pulse. Your breath had grown heavy, the air in your lungs fluttering with both excitement and nerves. His lips weren’t warm, but his kisses felt scorching as he nibbled his way down to the collar hem of your blood-stained shirt.

“Gabe.” His name left you in a breath.

The large hands resting on your hips squeezed a little harder, trying to pull you impossibly closer. It almost startled you when one sneaked a short ways up under your shirt, his lips meeting yours again.

_ “ETA ten minutes, boss.” _

Sombra’s voice over the intercom cut through the lusty haze that was building around you two. Gabriel grumbled without words, shoving his hand further up your shirt to find and gently squeeze one of your nipples. It had you laughing softly against his lips; though, you were also a bit disappointed for the interruption. An airship medbay was hardly the fitting place to get intimate, especially with coworkers just on the other side of the door. But Gabriel had ignited a blazing heat inside of you that longed for more than his lips on yours. 

He looked you over one final time, noting that the biotic cream had already relieved most of the bruising around your eye. With reluctance, you let each other go to straighten up. As Gabriel unlocked the door, something tickled your nose, drawing you into a sneeze. 

You felt a barely formed scab inside crack, blood pouring over your fingers again.

“Oh dear.”

 


	30. Without Candles - Zenyatta SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Autochorissexual: heya! I wish I were good at requesting things with plot but I just have a mighty need for some Zen loving ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ ) maybe something about Zen planing a nice quiet b-day dinner for reader? (⺣◡⺣)♡*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love some soft zen, always happy to write soft zen. thanks for the request!

When Zenyatta arrived at the Watchpoint in Gibraltar at Genji's behest, he was introduced to everyone.

Except you.

You were introverted and preferred to keep to yourself, and it was clear to see how your shoulders stooped under the weight of sins you were holding onto. But that was several years ago.

You were much lighter these days, something Zenyatta was proud to see. There would always be bad days, of course, but there would also always be sunshine waiting on the other side of those storms.

Zenyatta counted himself as extremely lucky to have landed so near in your orbit. To be able to love you, and be loved in return. It wasn't something he ever planned for his future, but the future could be delightfully unpredictable.

About as unpredictable as how this cheesecake was going to turn out.

Normally, Zenyatta could cook. Just give him the recipe, and he would follow it. The way you cooked was much more… in the moment, mixing flavors and using whatever was available. He admired it. So, when it came time to begin this cake, he decided to give it a try, in your honor.

Perhaps it was easier when you actually possessed taste buds.

Either way, the rest of dinner he prepared normally. If the cake didn't work out, he didn't want you to go completely hungry. He was just finishing up placing sugar-glazed raspberries on the top of the cake when you came home.

It was clear you were tired, you'd just returned from some solo reconnaissance work in Alaska. You dropped all your gear on the floor in the entryway and wandered right passed the kitchen without so much as a hello. Zen knew better than to be offended, though. This was normal for you. Before long, you came back, now clad in pajamas Angela had kindly gifted to you when she found out that you had a long-standing habit of just sleeping in your regular clothes. You loved those pajamas, and putting them on was a sure sign that you didn't intend to leave your quarters for the rest of the night. Which was just perfect.

Zenyatta was setting the table when you padded up behind him, looping your arms around his waist.

“Welcome home.”

You grumbled some kind of a response into the wiring along his spine, causing him to laugh. With a bit of coaxing, he turned around in your arms so he could return the embrace. The way you sighed and relaxed against his chest made him feel tingly and warm, something he'd never felt with anyone but you.

“I trust everything went safely?”

“Mm.” You nodded, tilting your face up towards his. “Was just long.”

“Ten days isn't so long on the scale of life.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “Until you realize you miss someone.”

“Missed you,” you whispered back, leaning in to kiss his face.

“I missed you, as well.”

For a soft, quiet moment, you just held each other. Your breathing was even and calm; skin warm and inviting to touch. Zenyatta's internal processors barely hummed, a soothing sound. You were going to fall asleep like that, he could feel it. But you needed food first, you never ate enough on assignments.

“Dinner is ready, my love. Please help yourself.”

He motioned to the table, where your favorite food was set out artfully. The cake was there, too. You blinked tiredly down at it all, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“What's all this for?”

“I simply wanted to do something special for you, for your birthday.”

You looked even more confused, trying to mentally count what day it was.

“Zen, it's… not my birthday.”

“Well, you won't tell anyone when your birthday really is. So I picked a day to celebrate for myself.”

He sounded so cheerful about it, you couldn't help but laugh. He was too cute. You leaned up to kiss him again, shifting your hold from his waist to his shoulders.

“Thanks, babe.”

Like always, he sat next to you at the table and talked to you while you ate. You complimented the food, like usual. When you took the first bite of the cake, your tired eyes lit up.

“Does it taste alright? I strayed from the recipe.”

“Unusually sweet for a cheesecake, but still good!”

You ate every bite.

Zenyatta sent you off to bed while he cleaned the kitchen up and stored everything away properly. When he joined you, he thought you were completely out. Until you felt the bed shift under his weight. Blearily, you tugged him up against you, big spoon-style, before you drifted off again.

Zenyatta watched you sleep, love spilling out of his cracks and crevices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO  
> THIRTY CHAPTERS HUH?  
> I DIDN'T EXPECT TO GET THIS FAR SO FAST!!  
> okay but seriously, thank you everyone who has liked, commented, and/or requested to this collection. i'm so happy people are enjoying it so much. i personally love writing little oneshots like this and the reader-insert side of fanfiction is turning out to be more fun than i would have anticipated. and everyone's requests have been so nice! i know i haven't done all of them, (though there are a few older ones i do still plan on getting to when it feels right), but i do appreciate each and every one of them. you guys are as creative as you are fic-hungry! haha, i can relate.  
> i look forward to the next thirty chapters!!  
> OH!! i have also decided to add headcanons as a requestable thing!


	31. Wayside Ashe HC's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a request, i just kinda felt like scribbling these out. i am working on a request though! it's just taking me a moment bc feelings are so hard to write!!! (but ultimately gratifying). 
> 
> these are headcanons to be paired along with Wayside Stories from a previous request.

**Wayside Ashe HC’s**

  * Ashe has already picked out a pistol for you in the off-chance the two of you ever get married. You’ll be splitting a matching set.
  * Everyone in the rebels knows about Ashe’s crush, and they think it’s _hilarious._ (they just don’t laugh out loud.)
  * Ashe tries to do random outdoor activities in your vicinity while you’re reading. Detailing her bike, target practice, smoking, etc. Sneaky peeks a-plenty.
  * One day you accidentally spill Ashe’s drink on her and she doesn’t even get mad because you’re so cute when you’re flustered.
  * Calls you “sweet-thing” without thinking afterwards, you think about it for the _rest of the day._ (and maybe week.)
  * The rebels keep trying to put you two in situations together, hoping something will spark off, but it usually ends up disastrous. 
  * Until one day you think you spy a book in one of the saddlebags on Ashe’s bike. It completely changes your perspective of the woman.
  * Suddenly you’re being all nice??? And genuinely soft towards Ashe??? She’s so flustered she doesn’t know what to do??????? You’re actually talking to her!!!
  * The embarrassment when Ashe comes clean about the books, and the fact that she’s not a reader but was doing it all just for you, is unreal. She’s never felt a thing like it.
  * She’s also never felt a thing like kissing you before, but gotdamn if she doesn’t hope that’ll happen more often.




	32. Stone Cold Crazy (For You) - Reaper SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> noflowercrownforme: Okay, here I am again. I don't think I ever requested anything so .....yeah... :')  
> I really, really adore what you are doing with Gabe and I have no idea if you're already way too into the wonderful little storyline that you're currently writing about but while reading the latest chapter, I kept dying over Gabe being protective like that! So I started thinking about maybe something like, Gabe is kind of having a big crush on the reader without them knowing about it? And so he really feels the need to be protective/jealous over them but tries to do that secretly? :') Maybe he's also feeling at the same time kind of as if he wouldn't be good enough anyway because of his entire personality/looks/you name it. It doesn't even have to end with the reader noticing his feelings, just noticing him feeling bad about himself and them trying to be a good friend? Or like... anything in that direction? I'm completely fine with anything (or nothing at all if you're not up for that or already busy), you just really made me remember my love for Gabe. And your writing!!! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a million years bc i really wanted it to be good and it can be tricky to write feelings sometimes. but i like what i put together here! thanks so much for the request and all your lovely comments!
> 
> as a note: regardless of your gender identity, you will be wearing a gown in this at the end. EVERYONE looks good in a gown okay? just like everyone looks good in a tux. formal wear is A+++ for literally everyone. plus the gown is kinda plot relevant. for funnies. 
> 
> enjoy!

“You whine like a child.”

You wanted to snark back that  _ most people _ would whine about having glass pulled out of their gums, but Amelíe was keeping your mouth open with one hand to do such a thing. The other was delicately tugging the shard free. With it came a free-flow of blood that poured down your chin and into your lap. Until she shoved a towel into your face.

“There.”

“Thankth,” you said dryly.

You were the first two back on the ship. Reaper had ordered you to return after that politician's bodyguard kindly introduced a glass punch bowl to your face, knocking you silly for a minute. He sent Widowmaker with you for cover. You bled the whole way there, but the cuts were superficial. Your lip was split pretty far up, though. That might need stitches or something. You frowned at your cut and bruised face in the small mirror mounted on the wall. Yeah, those were probably gonna scar. Not your shining moment either. 

Putting pressure back on your wounds, you slumped in your seat to wait the rest of the assignment out.

It was your boyfriend who convinced you to join Talon with him, initially. He fit right in with the soldiers, too. Big mouth, narcissistic, loved any excuse to beat people down and take what he wanted. It was like the army for dickwads. You went along with it, why not? You didn't exactly have anything else going for you and no family to care.

Then his cockiness got him a bullet to the head. You didn't cry or anything, he had always been a prick. You just picked up and carried on. Didn't leave Talon either. As it happened, you were surprisingly good at what you were doing. Better than he'd been. You followed orders well, and didn't have a problem shooting people, apparently. You felt very little about it. Talon was known for being able to gut people's emotions, but they never had to bother with you. You were already empty on arrival, ready to be filled with whatever they wanted.

Your first promotion was from soldier to assassin. Then they let you choose your preferred weapons and method of fighting and started assigning you to more difficult covert missions with higher ranked agents, as back-up.

That's how you met Reaper.

He was big and intimidating, especially compared to you. Like a huge Rottweiler and a snappy Chihuahua, side by side. He used two modified shotguns, also huge. You used two pistols and a knife. He could literally dissolve into shadow and smoke; you were just pretty good at not being noticed. 

You were assigned to shadow him a few times, did some work with Widowmaker for a little while, then found yourself back instep with Reaper.

A few times turned into many, then near exclusively.

Maybe he liked that you followed his orders immediately without question or comment. You even found a good rhythm fighting with and around him. You made sure you never got in his way.

That must be it, yeah.

Strangely, the longer you worked at his side, the more you kinda started feeling like your old self again. Very little, you were a vastly different person nowadays, but you were starting to feel like…  _ a person _ again. Was it because Reaper seemed to put effort into treating you like one?

You weren't blind; Reaper treated most agents beneath him as if they were, well, beneath him. Then he'd turn around and make sure you had enough ammo and a biotic emitter or two on hand before a fire fight, ensuring you had a clear understanding of your instructions. He'd finish with a growled, “stick close.” To him, you assumed. You always did.

He actively watched your back, too. As if he cared whether or not you lived. There was little warmth to go around in Talon, so you welcomed it as much as it perplexed you. 

And you never,  _ ever _ let yourself question why. That was a dangerous path, your life was dangerous enough already.

Reaper and Sombra returned to the ship before long, with only half the soldiers you'd embarked with. The bleeding must have stopped by now, but you kept the towel against the lower half of your face anyway and stayed in your seat for take off. Reaper sat right next to you, like he always did. Smelling like gunpowder and leather, which you could barely make out over your towel and the smell of your own blood.

Once the ship reached cruising altitude, Reaper surprised you by cracking open a biotic emitter, soft golden light encompassing you and making you feel tingly.

“Thankth,” you muffled into the towel, a little more sincere this time. He just nodded, never one to talk much, but he did turn in his seat towards you. He was such a large man, it almost felt like he was cutting you off from everyone else, making your own private corner.

He motioned to the towel, clearly expectant, so you let him see the damage. The emitter was easing your headache and bruising, but it would take more to close the cuts. You even tilted your head back to let him see how badly your lip was split.

“Make a pretty cool sthcar, I guesth.”

“Go to medbay as soon as we get back.” 

He said it like it was an order, so you nodded your understanding. The rest of the ride back was quiet, and you kept glancing in that little mirror again to see your lip. It was weird but you did look kinda cool. Rakish, like a seasoned soldier. You tried smiling slightly, but it burned so you quickly cut that out.

Back on base, you did as you were told. Reaper excused you from the debrief under order to send in a formal report once you’d been patched up. The doctors closed the split in your lip, but assured you it would scar if you didn’t apply the cream regularly. You dropped the small container of cream off in a trash bin on your way to your quarters to write your report, smiling along the way.

 

When you weren't off following orders, you either trained or wandered around the non-restricted areas of base reading shit. Nothing in particular, just whatever was around. There were no other hobbies to keep you busy and most other agents thought you were probably a snob, so most people refused to speak to you socially. A shame, really. You consider yourself to be kind of a nice person off the field. You supposed being Reaper’s little guard puppy wasn’t helping your reputation. They probably thought you were a snitch, too. Whatever, their loss. Not having friends in an organization like Talon didn’t exactly bother you. If push came to shove, any one of them would trip you up to save their own skin.

...Except for maybe Reaper. He’d probably drag your ass along if he had to. Did that mean you were his friend? Or just a favored underling? Who knew. Not you.

Typical between-assignment boredom, or bab as you liked to call it, found you in the armoury before dinner. Your report from the mission the previous day was done and sent in, and nothing new had come over your comm, so you wandered like usual. The armoury was an interesting place, the part you were allowed in. You had no doubts that the restricted section was also interesting, but weren’t willing to test your luck. Typically.

You had also never walked by an open security door before. Alarms off, security deactivated, just… open. The red sign on the front seemed so less demanding when the door was just hanging agape with not a soul in sight. 

Your first instinct was to raise the alarm, but you tempered that, hand falling to unclip the strap on your pistol holster. With one gun out and silent footsteps, you passed beyond where you were supposed to go for the first time. You were as quiet as a mouse, weaving through crates and shelves, eyes sharp and alert for anything or anyone out of the ordinary.

You heard nothing and saw nothing. Until you came to another door.

It wasn’t closed, per se, but cracked slightly open. No other foreseeable security measures in place aside from a key lock but, again, it was already open. So you toed it open a little more. Why not? You had no idea what to expect inside, already a bit far into territory not meant for the likes of you. What was the old saying your ex used all the time? Go big or go home?

It turned out to be a small room with very little in it, to be honest. Very little aside from the five computer screens, holocharts, servers, wardrobe, desk, and shelves. All full of things you knew nothing about. It was some kind of something alright, but you knew in an instant that you had just made a huge mistake. This was all Reaper’s.

If the different masks lined up on the shelves weren’t enough to tip you off, the two huge shotguns sitting on the desk would have for sure. They mirrored each other like the wings of the angel of death himself. Heavy and familiar in their battle-torn appearance. Repent, they said. The masks were in a similar state, some more damaged than others, a few even splattered with blood still.

You were  _ not _ supposed to be here. Before you turned to leave, though, something caught your eye. Sitting on the corner of the desk was a small container. You aren’t sure what compelled you to pick it up, but you did. Maybe because… it was yours. Or it used to be, before you tossed it in a bin. Yesterday. It was the biotic cream the doctors prescribed you the day before, still had the printed label on it with your last name and agent identification number.

You felt strange, seeing it there on the same desk with Reaper’s guns. It was unclear if it was a bad feeling or not. You needed to leave, though. You were not supposed to be there and, favored or not, Reaper might actually kill you if he found you in his personal space.

You made sure the door was cracked exactly as much as it had been when you arrived, and retraced your steps out of the restricted section without being seen. By people, you were probably caught on camera. But that was a bridge you’d cross when you got to it. For now, you made your way back to your room.

You realized, halfway there, that you still had the cream in hand. Would he notice it missing? In a rare moment of panic, you tossed it in the bin nearest to you and marched quickly in the other direction.

 

-

 

Your assumption that you were not seen by any living people was mostly correct. Only Reaper saw you leaving from the shadows, where he’d been waiting. He hadn’t been entirely certain that you would take the bait, but was glad that you did. You wandered all the way in.

Inside the office, it didn’t appear that you had moved anything, aside from the container you’d tossed in the trash before. The idea that you actually wanted your face to scar was somewhat… endearing to Gabriel. You were tough, and were rarely seriously injured in a fight. You had an odd luck that way.  _ Wanting _ battle scars? It was kind of cute. 

With a heavy sigh, he pushed his hood back and unclipped his mask. You hadn't lingered in here as long as he was hoping. Definitely not long enough for him to work up the nerve to approach you, which he was already regretting. He let you slip right through his fingers.

Gabriel Reyes was a tired man. No, that wasn’t quite right. Gabriel Reyes was a dead man, and the ghost he’d left behind had become so heavy with anger and hatred that it was hard to tell what he even hated anymore. He just kept going, kept moving and killing because it was what he’d spent most of his life doing. Why would his afterlife be any different? But he couldn’t keep lying to himself as the years went on. He was tired. Of a lot. For the longest time, he had nothing to do with that emotion, though. Sure he was tired, but he kept working anyway. Kept making that list shorter by the week, without ever stopping to ask himself what he was going to do when he was finished. What would become of him in the aftermath of so much blood shed?

When he first met you, it was like meeting another version of Widowmaker. An obedient little soldier who killed without question, it didn’t matter who it was. You literally did not care. It wasn’t until Gabriel found out that you  _ hadn’t _ been manipulated like Widowmaker that he started to pay attention to you. The more he worked with you, the less he saw the sniper and the more he saw himself. Talon didn’t empty you, life had. Leaving a husk of a person behind with almost no morals and good aim. It was probably twisted, but keeping you close, protecting you, felt like protecting a part of himself.

It didn’t take long for him to realize what he was feeling for you was more than a projected sense of identity. You hid your empty spaces well outside of a fight, smiled, even cracked jokes. He realized he liked being around you and started assigning you alongside nearly everything he did. Having you there with him made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Like an addict, he kept bringing you back for more. Kept you all to himself.

Then you’d separate for the time between missions, and he wished he could still keep you around. Just do everything together; meetings, meals (not that he ate anymore), downtime. Maybe if you were there, he’d do more than brood and seethe, or stare at the walls. Maybe you could become even closer…

It was when he started daring to entertain thoughts of you  _ with _ him that disgust would creep into his mind. You were little more than half his age. He’d founded Overwatch not long after you’d been born. Him pining after you officially made him a creepy old man. That didn’t even take into consideration the… rest of him.

But he knows he couldn’t stay away from you. There was very little he wanted out of life anymore and you were starting to top that list. You didn’t seem to mind the set-up, either, so he didn’t try. He could tolerate feeling disgusted with himself if it meant keeping you near for as long as possible, pretending he stands a chance with you.

 

-

 

It wasn't just about keeping you close anymore, though. Something felt like it was bubbling up inside of Gabriel whenever you were around. Behind the blank wall of his mask, he kept tabs on you nearly at all times. You didn't know it, but there was some of him in your shadow now, too. 

Everywhere you went, he followed. To look out for you, he told himself. No more. Which was a huge fucking lie, even as he thought it.

It took one of those huge bourgeoisie parties in Milan to really drive it home. The kind crawling with millionaires, politicians, judges, and anyone with money and power. Reaper couldn't exactly blend in like he could at the masquerade, but Akande could blend in just fine. Wanted criminal or not, he had power and influence. Which made him a great distraction while the rest of you were sneaking around.

Reaper was the one who recommended you for the assignment. It was low-physical risk and high reward. Tusseau had something Akande wanted and a huge party was the best time to take it. Your face wasn't associated with Talon publicly, so you and a few others were perfect to blend into the crowd. Plus, you might even have a little fun. Except that when the time came, you were assigned to wear, of all things, a gown. 

It wasn't that you couldn't pull it off. The problem was that you  _ could _ . Gabriel had never seen you outside of uniform fatigues or training gear. Thick, sturdy clothes with a wide range of movement, and solid boots made for kicking ass.

Then you stepped out of the car with Akande in something designer; with a plunging neckline and a high slit up the side, silk poured around your frame in the deep crimson color of blood and his mouth had never felt so dry. Reaper was posted  _ outside _ the party, as back up in case anything got sticky. He had to fight off the urge to swallow you up in your own shadow and deposit you right into his arms. Where were you even hiding your pistol in that?

Against his better judgement, he moved closer to the party, keeping to the shadows. He could feel you through the part of himself he slipped into your shadow, but he couldn't see through it. That he did like a lurker on the edge of everyone's periphery. 

You didn't stay with Akande, he garnered himself plenty of other attention. Instead you mingled at the edges of the room, with the introverts who didn't entirely wish to be there. 

You looked so  _ beautiful _ that everyone noticed. Snobs in suits perked up when you spoke to them. You tilted your head to the side to take a sip of your champagne while they eyed your neck and chest with ill-disguised hunger, following that neckline all the way down. Gabriel could already feel their windpipes crushed in his hands for daring to look at you like that.

_ “It’s just an assignment, Gabe. Relax.” _

Having Sombra in his ear wasn't helping.

You laughed at someone's joke, touching a man's arm lightly. He took this as permission to move even closer to you. You were far too good at flirting for Gabriel's temper.

 

-

 

You weren't a party person, but you were a “follow orders because that's your damn job” person. That's what landed you in three inch heels with the worst wedgie of your life. You couldn't even pick it out because the damn underwear was designed that way. It was driving you bananas. Did you tick Reaper off? This had to be punishment.

On top of how weirdly breezy your legs felt in this gown, you had a discreet gun holster strapped so high up your thigh that the grip was rubbing against your taint through Satan's panties. It was, without question, your least favorite assignment. Give you a hail of bullets and dodging landmines any day. Just not this.

You mingled as best you could when you were a former street orphan pretending to be a sheep among wolves. Smile pretty, act sweet (but not smart), if someone assumes you're a hooker, don't correct them. The briefing for this mission had been a wild ride. You  _ did _ need to move on with things, though. Find a good position to await further orders and a welcome reprieve from Mr. Handsy McHandlebar-Mustache. 

Unfortunately, when you tried to excuse yourself to find a restroom, a tall woman in a tuxedo offered to take you there.

“Don't want a sweet thing like you getting lost in such a big house.”

Her lips were painted blue to match her fingernails, and there was something in the corners of her smile that put you on edge.

You insisted you'd be fine but she persisted regardless, already leading you along. It was putting you on edge, despite her continued casual conversing. It really was a huge house. Mansion? Chateau? She led you away from the noise and people, down quiet hallways in a seemingly random path. You weren't an idiot, this was too far for the restrooms, but you pretended to not notice.

Then she stopped suddenly, opening a door to lightly push you inside. It was a dark room, you couldn't see much as she shoved you, much harder, against what felt like the edge of a desk.

“Scream and I'll splatter your pretty brains all over the wall,” she threatened in a hard voice, all friendliness long gone. You felt the nose of a gun under your chin, tilting your head back slightly. You allowed yourself a shiver and whimper, to distract her from how you were reaching for your own gun. “I know you arrived with Akande Ogundimu. Now I don't know if you're hired for the night or if he owns you, but you and I are about to make a little deal, alright sweetie?”

She cooed the last bit. Man, they really weren't kidding about you getting mistaken for a whore.

Whatever her deal offer was, you didn't find out, though.

Because a lamp clicked on near a window and you both snapped your attention over to find Reaper, just standing there. The gun pressed harder into your throat, the woman pushing herself against your body to keep you pinned.

“Who the fuck are you--!”

The light clicked off again. Within seconds, you felt her body jerk away from yours with a barely started yell. Then a sickening crack and gurgle, body slumping to the floor.

The lamp on the desk clicked on right next to you. The woman lay at your feet. You looked over to Reaper with a somewhat dry expression, which you didn't normally dare to do. But the constant annoyance of fabric between your ass cheeks was starting to get to you.

You finished pulling your pistol out.

“I could have handled that.”

He just shrugged in response, making his way to the computer on the desk and plugging something in. Stifling a sigh, you pulled an earpiece from the lining of your dress and put it in, double checking that your pistol was loaded while Reaper and Sombra broke through the security firewall. Your own part of the operation was small for now. Plan B, in case Plan A went sour.

While waiting, you checked the perimeter for straggling party-goers and drunks, then kicked your heels off to drag the corpse into a closet. Tripping over the edge of your gown every-so often.

“This thing is a nightmare,” you growled, kicking it out of the way, yet again.

“What is?”

You motioned to the gown, a look of contempt on your face. Reaper paused what he was doing to look you over head to foot, slowly. Warmth settled inside of you, but you refused to shy away.

“Hm,” was his grand response. You couldn't help your shoulders sagging a little, not really sure what you had been hoping for.

 

Plan A didn't fail, it actually went off seamlessly. The alpha team got what was needed and got out. Sombra also planted several bugs in their security systems. You never even had to fire a bullet. It was, all in all, horrible.

Akande was informed and he gave the green light to start filtering out of the party. You weren't sure if you were supposed to leave with him or not. He sounded like he was staying for a while and you did not want to stay.

“If I can find a backdoor to this place, can I hitch a ride with you and Amelíe?”

Reaper paused near the window he was about to ghost out of.

“...You don't want to stay?”

“Can't say rich people parties are my thing.” You had your own hand up in your skirt, trying to put your pistol back in the holster. When you looked up at Reaper again, he turned his gaze elsewhere, like he was trying not to get caught watching you holster a gun so close to your crotch. He didn't respond right away, glancing out the window, then back to you. “Sir?”

“...Grab your shoes.”

You reluctantly started pulling the small torture devices back on, but he paused you.

“Leave them off.”

He sounded quiet. Almost shy, if you didn't know any better. Nodding, you held them by their straps and joined him at the window. This was curious.

“Close your eyes.”

Very curious.

You stared at him hard, looking for anything in the empty eye holes of his mask.. Sometimes, you thought you could catch a glow of red during more intense missions, the blood baths, but it wasn't there right now.

You gave him a nod and did as he wished.

Then it felt like you were falling. It lasted only a moment, a quick rush of cold that made you gasp, until you were safely caught in a pair of sturdy arms. Tense, you peeked your eyes open to see just what the fuck that had been. Reaper placed you gently back on your feet at the same time, your toes dipping into cool sand.

Sand?

You weren't back on base or the ship, far from them. You stood on the shores of a bay. It was a calm, tepid night, waves sloshing gently. You could hear the distant sound of music, a patio bar on the beach a ways down. 

“This…” Where  _ were _ you?

Reaper took a step back, letting you slip free of his hold, the thick cloud of shadow beneath his feet dissipating into nothing. You looked from him to the scenery, then back again, obviously confused.

“Where are we, sir?”

Reaper hesitated a great deal. You'd never seen him like this before. He glanced out towards the bar, posture looking like he was physically fighting with himself to not flee.

You were about to question him again when he suddenly stood a little straighter and held out a hand.

“You put a lot of work into getting ready for the party, but you never… danced with anyone.”

Danced? You looked at the offered hand. He was asking you to dance.  _ Reaper _ was asking you to dance.

Quickly, you hiked your skirt up and started taking off your gun holster. Without pausing, you snatched your underwear off, too, and tossed them into the sand. Where Reaper stared at them, a little frozen. But you took his hand and confidently moved into his space.

“Thongs are  _ not _ comfortable for walking, much less dancing.”

He accepted it with a small nod, ripping himself away from the sight of your fucking underwear on the sand.

You weren't much of a dancer, it was clear he wasn't either. Like perhaps he'd known how once, but his body forgot the movements over time. Despite this, you let him lead you across the beach. It was the most comfortable you'd been all night, slowly swaying to the distant music. You didn't always sync up to the rhythm, but it didn't matter to you. Maybe you were dancing to music in Reaper's head. What kind of music did he listen to?

The gown swayed around your legs, brushing over the sand. You weren't worried about it getting dirty, could not care less. Reaper's hand on the small of your back made you tingle. His chest nearly touching yours.

“...You look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped for a moment as you stared up at him, thinking you might have hallucinated that compliment. 

“Tonight?”

Dancing slowed to a stop as Reaper shook his head once.

“Always…”

He gave you a moment to absorb that, probably looking like a deer caught in headlights. He moved to gently touch one of his claws to your lip, over the fresh scar, and you  _ knew _ you were flushing. ...When was the last time you felt like this?

Heart hammering in your chest, you reached up to his mask. He let you touch it but stopped you before you could slip it off. You wished you could see his eyes; know what he was thinking, telling you this. But he probably had his reasons to deny it to you, for now. So you let your hand fall to his chest, then rested your cheek there, too. He held you so carefully, still moving leisurely to the music. You couldn’t even imagine what kind of sight you must be making together. The thought made you laugh softly.

“What is it?” Reaper asked in such a quiet voice.

You lifted your head and gave him a slight smile, maybe it was the champagne from before or something.

“Dancing with death,” was all you said, and it made him laugh, too. Not his maniacal laughter often heard before he would slaughter an entire room of people. This was different,  _ real _ humor. His dancing suddenly took on more grace and flair as he dropped you into a dramatic dip.

As he brought you back up slowly, your heart pounded in your chest completely unlike anything you’ve ever felt. It wasn’t the rush before a fight or a kill, it was stronger somehow, to you. Before he brought you up straight again, you leaned forward and kissed the front of his bone-white mask.

He paused, leaving you a little breathless, wondering if that had been alright.

Then he gathered you up against him, an embrace like he both owned and cherished you.

Hell, maybe he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT, and with this, I AM CLOSING REQUESTS FOR THE MOMENT. not forever i promise!!!! just a few weeks! i've got a lot going on right now, plus other stuff i want to work on, so i'm taking a break. i'll let your guys know when they're back up! thanks for everything! see you, then!!!
> 
> oh, and you can keep up with me on twitter if you want @seamobeemo  
> i'm pretty boring, but i usually respond to messages, so feel free to come by and say hi or ask questions or just tell me random facts you recently learned. hell, if you play OW on the PS4, i might even give you my psn if you ask nicely and we could play together.
> 
> deuces!


	33. Heart of Gold - Zenyatta SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hard life when all you're trying to do is help people in a world so full of hatred and pain. Call it vigilantism or just downright foolishness. Either way, you've somehow managed to find a safe haven where you're always welcome. And, despite your differences, you find yourself falling for your kind savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr  
> You're the omnic, Zenyatta is the human.
> 
> \---  
> hey, so i had this crazy idea and then it took me a million years to beat the crap out of this oneshot until i felt it was worth being read haha. i've seriously been working on this thing for weeks, that's just sad.  
> anyway! i'm back! so are requests! i hope you guys enjoy this one! i'm actually super, super fond of what came from this au idea. like, so fond that i might write more for it.  
> hell, if you guys like it anywhere near as much as me, please feel free to prompt things you'd like to see from this particular reader set-up.
> 
> kisses,   
> seamo

There weren’t a lot of things you were afraid of. Sometimes you even joked with yourself that fear got deleted with your voice. A lot of humans distrusted you, sure, but most of them hardly ever noticed you passing by. You liked it that way. It made a hard job easier and you could use all the easing you could find. Especially after jobs like the one you just finished.

Rain poured torrentially on the city, making the dark night that much harder to see through. Your thermal lenses were glitching again, too, so you made sure to keep your hood up and head down. At your side, a small hand tugged at your coat. The omnic child stared imploringly up at you from under the bill of the baseball cap you’d lifted back in London. You knew the group of human teenagers waiting on the other end of the bus station was making them uneasy, but they were just punks with loud clothing. So you pulled the child’s hood up over the cap and gently tugged them to stand on the other side of you, keeping a hand on their shoulder.

You weren’t actually waiting for a bus. You were carefully watching a light you could barely make out in the distance, far off into the slums of the city. It was red. Red meant wait. So you waited. You couldn’t explain this to the child, but it would make sense in time.

Thunder roared overhead, adding to the din of the rain pounding onto the roof of the station. A bus honked lightly as it approached.

While the teens were climbing aboard, the light in the distance turned green.

Where you’d been standing calm and casual before, you immediately took the child by the hand and hustled them out from under the station’s overhang, into the rain. You were almost running, but not quite, mindful of the child’s shorter legs. It was so dark, your thermal lenses barely blinking with traces of residual heat signatures, and the two of you almost ran right into the chain-link fence. A quick scan of the area showed no security guards or cops, so you crept quietly along the fence until you found the break, holding the chain apart while the child crawled through first. You swiftly followed, closing the break back behind you to look natural.

It was a sad sort of world you lived in that the slums of some cities were more desirable than the “right side of the tracks”. You slowed your hustle to little more than wanting to get out of the rain. Water was soaking through your coat, trickles dripping down your side and into exposed wiring. Your right arm twitched, going a bit numb to sensation, but you pressed on.

Somewhere in the heart of the slums, you found a light bulb glowing over a wooden door set into a brick building. The paint was peeling and a rat ran for different cover as you approached. You knocked once. Then three times in quick succession. Waited four seconds, then knocked twice. The child was clinging to your coat again, looking around with worry, but you tried to soothe them with a pat on the head.

Before long, you could hear locks sliding back before the door cracked open to reveal the small, grubby face of a human child. A girl. She lit up when she saw you and swung the door wide open.

“Lucky!! You came back! I’m, I’ll tell mister Nyatta!”

She ran off in excitement while you ushered the omnic child inside and tightly locked the door again. Once you felt it was secure, you kneeled and helped the child shed their wet coat and hat. With a slight tilt to your head, you brought your hands into fists and placed one wrist over the other, then separated them in a sweeping outward motion.

It was safe here.

The child nodded, repeating the motion, even though you knew they could talk themself. They seemed to be picking up a preference for not speaking if you couldn’t. It was cute.

“Ah, so it is as Nettie said. You have returned.”

The child shyly hid behind you at the voice of a newcomer, and you wished  _ you _ had someone to shyly hide behind. Instead, you stood up straight and turned to greet him.

You met Tekartha Zenyatta years ago. He was brother to the omnic rights activist Tekartha Mondatta and Zenyatta did plenty as an activist himself. Until “fate” led him to this city, to help children both human and omnic. Well, he helped everyone, really. If you needed aid, Zenyatta’s was a safe place. He was both wise and incredibly kind, and he always welcomed you through that door.

“Welcome back.” He smiled at you, soft and sweet. All humans could smile, but Zenyatta’s could warm the soul with its brilliance. It didn't matter how long you were away, it never lost its shine. A few ports on your back popped open under your coat, expelling faint traces of steam. You're pretty sure he didn't notice, he was too busy looking you over, a sudden tick of worry cutting through his delight in seeing you again.

“I do hope your journey led you out of harm’s way this time... Oh? And who is this?”

You were halfway through gesturing to him in reassurance. Hm? Oh! The kid.

It took some coaxing to get the child around you to meet the kind human in round spectacles. They told Zenyatta their name, explaining what had happened back in England… to their family. Ever full of empathy, Zenyatta was quick to ease the child’s troubled nerves with the pure tranquility of his aura. You never understood how he could do that so easily, you couldn’t even make conversation with people. It was a wonder the kid had trusted you at all. 

When you felt confident the kid was going to be okay with their new caregiver, you excused yourself from the rowdiness of a dozen children getting ready for bed. The journey back had been a long and stressful one, you weren’t used to carrying such precious cargo. Zenyatta typically let you use a small room off of his workshop upstairs, and you were glad to shuck your wet clothing in favor of something dry. You had to be careful of your side as you removed your shirt, though. Of course, just as you were gingerly lifting it, your arm twitched out again and wet fibers got caught on torn metal, ripping holes in the cotton.  _ Shoot _ , that wasn't even your shirt. You just kinda yanked it off after that.

The part of you that wanted to start fixing the damage right away was out-weighed by how worn down in energy you were. You'd been going mostly non-stop for several days. That wasn’t altogether unusual for you, but you  _ needed _ to slow down and let yourself reboot some.

So you collapsed into the cot without changing, careful of your damaged side. Just a short rest. No more.

 

Humming was the first thing you heard as your processors booted back up in repair mode. It was soft, melodic, and so soothing. It was also familiar. As familiar as the fingers you could feel carefully sorting through and replacing wires in your side. How long had you been out? The humming paused.

“Have you awoken?”

A sparking tingle worked its way through your wiring, all down your arm. Not bringing numbness this time, but full feeling.

Your visual lenses booted back up last; letting you see the man, who was seated on a stool next to the cot with a tray of precision tools in his lap as he worked. You gave him a single nod.

“I was really hoping to find you up here with everything intact this time.”

You tilted your head down a touch. He always had such a kind way of scolding your recklessness. While still managing to make you feel bad. You couldn't fathom why Zenyatta cared about you so much, but he did this every time you stumbled back through his door, broken and glitching. For years, now, the two of you had carried on like this.

It would be a falsehood to claim that your feelings towards the former monk were purely platonic. Which embarrassed you on some level. Romantic relationships between human and omnic were still… taboo, in acceptable society. Unacceptable society felt much the same still, tragically. Both of which meant nothing to you, especially if Zenyatta didn't feel the same way back.

“May I borrow a few fingers?” He asked in that soft tone of voice that always made you weak in the knee joints. You let him guide two of your fingers to hold something in place while he soldered. 

You were both hopeful and hesitant to guess his feelings towards you. Just because you never ran into others during your visits, didn't mean you were the only wannabe vigilante who sought asylum with Zenyatta. The only one he patched up on such a regular basis. The thought alone made a cold tingle lace through your circuitry, which was ridiculous of you. Zenyatta used to be a monk; he was a helpful, giving soul. There was no reason to be jealous of him giving such attention to others. He wasn't yours to be jealous of.

You didn't think.

...You wanted him to be.

“That was a very kind thing you did, bringing that child all the way here. You could have left them with the local authorities.”

You were shaking your head before he even finished. Not in London. An omnic child in the foster care system? They’d be snatched up for omnic trafficking faster than a bullet flies. Zenyatta gave you a smile so full of warmth that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Still a hero, I see.” He said it softly, only adding to your embarrassment. 

“Alright, I believe that's all I can do for now.”

Zenyatta set his tools aside. His touch lingered over two deeply gouged lines in the metal of your side, a sad tilt to his eyebrows. He sighed.

“I don't have enough soldering wire left to fix these, I'm afraid.”

Carefully, you raised a hand to cover his, drawing his attention to your faceplate instead. Your free hand touched your chin lightly, gesturing out and downward in thanks. He sighed again, this time with a faint smile. Fingers laced themselves together with yours, not minding your mechanical joints. 

“You're welcome, as always.”

His gaze on you was so fond that you tingled all over. Again hit with a painful hope that Zen felt  _ something _ towards you. You weren't sure what would ever come of it, but… it could be nice. To have someone.

After a few minutes of simply taking in each other’s presence, he seemed to pull himself out of a reverie. Face flushing a faint, but lovely, pink. He quickly stood with his tools, turning away to return them to his work table while he spoke. You missed the warmth of his hand immediately.

“Your clothes are being laundered by Nettie. Although the shirt might not be salvageable.” There was faint laughter in his tone, like it amused him that you'd ruined yet another of his shirts to bullet holes and tears from your own body. He whirled back around, smiling again with a folded shirt in his hands. “I brought up another for you.” 

Zenyatta looked a little  _ too _ pleased. What was the expression? Like the cat that caught the canary? He quickly made his way back over to you, snapping the shirt out of its fold and holding it up for you to see. It was probably some shade of red once, now it was faded into a blood orange color. The front held white words printed on it with the drawn outline of a lotus flower underneath.

_ Namasté In Bed _

Where the hell did he even find all these vintage shirts? His grin was bright as you took it to pull it on.

“It’s perfect on you.” He said that every time. You must have conveyed a dry enough expression because he laughed again. “It is perfect in irony. Since you  _ never _ stay in bed for very long.”

You concede with a shrug. It was true. And honestly, if Zenyatta liked it, you’d wear it regardless of what it said.

You got up from the cot so Zen could check the fit for himself, like always, smoothing the time-worn cotton over your shoulders. He had the softest look on his face. Your fingers twitched to pull him into an embrace, he was  _ right there _ . It wouldn't take much.

“Something on your mind?”

Huh?

Zenyatta was looking at you with a curious expression, still standing incredibly close, hands sliding slowly down your arms. There was something so open about his dark eyes that sucked you in, made you feel…

Tentatively, your fingers barely touched his waist in a light graze. He looked neither surprised nor offended. In fact, he shifted just a little bit closer.

“Lucky?”

It felt like your processors slowed for a fraction of a moment. Those beautiful hands moved to your chest, encouragement in his demeanor. Did Zenyatta really… want you too? 

He was so warm when you finally broke and gathered him up in your arms, pressing your forehead to his, his glasses tinking against your face. Of course he melted against you right away, arms tossed over your shoulders. Why wouldn't he? He'd waited over a year for you to make any kind of move towards what he knew you both wanted.

Zen released a happy sigh this time, almost sagging against you in relief. You held him easily, it wasn't as though he weighed much. All the years you'd known each other and this was your first embrace. You wanted to squeeze him tighter, smoosh him to your body, but he was made of such delicate flesh. You did not wish to hurt him, but you also had no intentions of letting him go now. Not until you absolutely had to.

“Mister Nyatta!” Which was a lot sooner than you would have liked. “Santi’s putting his feet in the potty again!”

Nettie's voice carried easily from downstairs and Zenyatta cracked a wider smile, taking your face into both of his hands.

“I should attend to that.” 

Without any hesitancy, he leaned right in and kissed you. Like it was just a natural thing for the two of you. His lips were warm against your face, lingering for a moment. You tightened your hold just a fraction, leaning into the touch. Zenyatta made a small sound when you did, a sound you'd never heard from him before, like the softest whimper.

He was almost breathless when you pulled apart, face pink again. He didn't want to walk away from you right now, but the children were beginning to make a small commotion and it was passed their collective bedtime. 

So he sighed with a small smile, leaning up to give you another giddy peck of a kiss.

“You should get some more rest. I'll come back up after I get the kids to sleep.”

You started to shake your head. You could help him with the kids, most of them knew and liked you at this point. But Zenyatta gently stilled your head with his hands, a dreamy expression on his face.

“Please, for me? You truly don't get enough rest, my dear.” Steam was building up at your ports again as he glanced down at your shirt then back up again. “Namasté in bed?”

Obviously, you couldn't say no. Not to that. With a light squeak in one of your sternocleidomastoid pistons, you nodded. Zen made sure you were comfortable on the cot again, kissing your head before he departed.

“Hopefully, this won't take long. I'll be back up to join you soon.”

You gave him another nod, letting your limbs go loose and relaxed. Zenyatta smiled at you all the way to the door, giving up a small wave before he slipped downstairs.

You encouraged your mind to slow down, looking for rest you seldom allowed yourself.

Wait…

Join you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN  
> oh yeah, adding Baptiste to the list, haha. let's give that beautiful man some LOVE.


	34. Merry-Go-Round of Life - Morrison SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parappaa: it’s me here to request again from you again ;; <33 i think a cheesy carnival date fic would be amazing maybe with soldier or hanzo ? only they aren’t together and keep wondering if it’s a date or not? or honestly whichever character you feel like writing for <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did pick soldier. though i warn you now, this probably isn't as light or fluffy as you were hoping for. i meant to take that route, but then i got kinda depressed and this took a turn like that, too. happy (hopeful?) ending, though. the angst is very mild. i'm really trying to handle soldier's confirmed sexuality in a respectful way bc i love him, i hope this reflects that.
> 
> THIS IS A GENDERLESS READER FIC. usually, i like to write them so they can be read in whatever way the reader identifies, but this one specifically is for genderless or non-binary folk. it's directly talked about and is the source of the mild angst.
> 
> anyway, enjoy?

 

It was, without question, a beautiful day. Honestly, it was the perfect day for outdoor adventures. All over the city, citizens were at parks and lake sides, enjoying the fresh air and golden sunlight after what was, frankly speaking, a very long winter. You didn’t expect to find yourself out enjoying it, too, but you also weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially since that very same gift horse had given you a two-part combo gift in the form of a free ticket to the carnival _ with _ the most handsome man you worked with. Okay, the most handsome man you’d ever known, work or no. 

Although Reyes would probably be very affronted if you ever said that out loud. What could you say? You apparently had a thing for soon-to-be silver foxes.

It was unclear, though, whether or not Morrison was having as nice of a day as you. He tended to be a pretty serious guy where work was concerned. Always had his mind on the job. It was one of the things you first admired about him back when you were a rookie beat cop on the sidelines, watching the detectives solve the big crimes. You worked hard to get even remotely close to their level. So, when Reyes was reassigned to the gang division, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you were picked as Morrison’s new partner in violent crimes.  _ You _ were surprised, but most everyone else wasn’t.

That was all in the past now. You’d been working with Morrison for almost five years at this point. And he was still the most attractive person you knew, in looks and personality. There was just one tiny, little problem.

He was gay. Had even expressly said so himself. You met his ex-boyfriend, very nice guy. It all kind of put a big damper on how hard you had the hots for him. Which, in retrospect, was probably for the best, being work partners and all. Was still depressing to think about.

“You finished with that?”

“Hm?”

Oh right, the carnival. The carnival you were at with Morrison, posing as just a regular-ass couple out for some good fun with clowns and acrobats and stuff.

He gestured to the stick in your hand that once held a corndog, before you inhaled it. His own two were also empty.

“Oh, yeah.” 

He tossed them all in a trash bin. “Don’t go spacing out on me now, kid.”

You scoffed lightly, giving his shoulder a bump with your own. Damn he was solid.

“I’m not spacing out,  _ old man _ . I’m… taking in the sights.” Totally true, you’d been taking in the sight of his ass in those jeans all afternoon. Kinda flat, but still very nice. You were absolutely bias. 

“Taking in the sights, huh?” You tried not to show your surprise when he dropped an arm over your shoulders and led you towards one of the fun houses. Was he… wearing cologne? “And what have you seen?”

You lowered your voice a fraction, trying not to melt into his side.

“Not much, a few skeezy booth-workers but that’s about it. What intel did McCree list in that report again?”

Morrison grunted, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he spoke. “He’s pretty sure this place is tied to a human trafficking ring the FBI have been tracking…”

“If they are, they’re hiding it well. This place had great reviews online.” You looked around as you said it. It was a nice carnival, definitely one of the nicest you’d ever been to. The stalls were clean and most everyone was very friendly. You watched someone attempt the strong man booth and couldn’t help thinking that Morrison could crush that thing. Maybe you could talk him into trying later.

Morrison, though, had gone strangely quiet, still looking at his phone with brows furrowed, scrolling.

“What’s up?” You leaned more against him, trying to get a look, too. His arm slid from your shoulders but his hand stayed on your back, large and warm.

“...I can’t find the report.”

“What?”

“I had it bookmarked, but it’s gone from the system entirely.”

That was certainly strange.

You pulled your own phone out, the two of you stopping off to the side so you weren’t in people’s way. You shot off a quick text to McCree, maybe he had a copy of the report he could send to you.

Suspiciously, McCree responded almost right away. He never did that. You’d be lucky to get a response within the hour from him. Outside work time? You’d be lucky to get a response within the day. Even more suspicious was what he wrote.

 

_ Oh, hey, yeah, sorry bout that. Bad intel, pulled the report. _

 

What?

“Dear god.”

“What?” It was Morrison’s turn to lean into your space and read over your shoulder, whispering the words to himself. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

It meant McCree sent you to the carnival for no reason, and the lack of remorse in his text was enough to clue you into the fact that he probably did it on purpose. That snake. You should never have told him about your crush. McCree was not the type of man to be above abusing work hours for personal gain. Even when that gain was trying to set his best friend up on a date with someone they liked.

But this wasn’t really a date. Not with Morrison now standing a few feet away on the phone with Chief Amari. Not when he was fucking  _ gay _ and you were a genderless freak that he only saw as a work-partner. Not a… life-partner. Yeah, he was softer on you than most everyone else, but you’d also seen each other bleed and cry, so. You were close, as most partners are.

Fuck.

A small group of kids ran by you, laughing as their guardian followed at a more leisurely pace. A teen-aged couple were sharing an ice-cream, heading towards the tunnel-of-love. The sun was bright, baring in plain sight to you how empty your love life was. Jack was absolutely the closest relationship you had, and you couldn’t even have him beyond platonic lines.

“Chief is giving us the rest of the day off.”

You jumped a little and Morrison froze, hands up. 

“Sorry.”

“No... no, I just didn’t hear you approach. It’s fine.” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Rest of the day off? Why?”

He looked a little… unsure, when you asked. Almost shy as he scratched the back of his head.

“Chief said the tickets were already paid for, so we ‘shouldn't waste budget money by  _ not _ having a good time.’ I don't know.”

Well, that was certainly odd. But at the same time, Amari was a very pragmatic person. You were sure McCree was going to get his hide tanned for this, though. Entirely his fault. Maybe Amari would let you help.

You tried to push those thoughts away when you realized Morrison was waiting on some kind of response from you. Have fun, you could do that. At the very least, Jack was your friend. So you gestured to a booth you’d passed a while back.

“Pretty sure I can kick your ass at the air rifle range.”

A crooked, handsome smile crossed his face.

“You can try, kid.”

 

When you were both out of the work mindset, it was easy to relax and just have a good time together. You saw the shows, played games. Jack nearly threw out his back in a fun house and you laughed so hard you almost peed yourself. Then you sat with him on a bench sharing a funnel cake, and watched the sun go down. Had you really been there all afternoon? It was so easy to lose track of time around him.

“You listening?”

“Hm?”

Jack gave you a funny look that held an edge of concern, licking powdered sugar from his fingers. “You're spacing out a lot today, you sure you're doing alright?” His other arm had been resting on the back of the bench, and he moved to drape it over your shoulders again, jostling you a bit. He was so warm.

“Yeah,” you replied lamely. Really, you were better than alright, situationally. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

He hummed in understanding, though you doubted he did. He tugged you a little bit closer.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Ha, yes. And no. 

You stared up at the fading orange sky, tiny dots of stars barely blinking awake in the bleeding black of night creeping in. “Just… love, I guess.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Why did you just say that.

He looked surprised. “Love?” There was something of an odd tone to his voice, but he cleared his throat of it. “You've got love troubles?”

You couldn't stop yourself from snorting, you tried.

“Like you wouldn't believe.” You needed to stop talking.

Jack looked unsure of what to say at first, fishing for his words and coming up empty-handed. He cleared his throat again.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

Your mouth was a fucking traitor. Or maybe your heart was just too tired.

“Have you ever been in love with someone you couldn't have?”

You directed the question towards the sunset, nerves alight with fear and anxiety. He didn’t answer right away and you made the mistake of turning to him. Normally clear, blue eyes were watching you with an ill-disguised intensity that you'd  _ never _ been on the receiving end of. Much less from Jack. His hand on your shoulder gently tightened its grip. You watched him swallow hard, then give a nod.

“I have.”

You were caught in his gaze on you, becoming blind to passersby as the light faded from the sky.

“...What did you do about it?”

“Nothing yet…” He said it so softly, the words were almost drowned in the ringing of his phone, which snapped the atmosphere in two almost instantly. “It's Reyes,” he mumbled, checking the screen.

But despite the moment being broken, your heart was left racing in your chest. He answered the phone, giving you a moment to pick up how scattered your thoughts were.

What the hell. Was that.

Jack held you to his side still as he chatted then hung up. You were afraid he'd turn into dust if you tried to move away. You were afraid of waking up to this being a dream. But he didn't, and neither did you.

“Reyes and McCree are going to the bar for dinner. You up for grabbing real grub?”

As if it had been asked directly, your tummy gave a small rumble.

“M'starving.”

You mourned the loss of his heat when he stood up and tossed the remnants of the funnel cake, but you were right behind him to follow him out.

Except he slowed down to put you next to him instead, his smile small. Bravery you didn't know you had seized you in a sudden moment and you reached for his hand, watching him cautiously for a response. He just smiled down at you and kept going, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Maybe… maybe this could work after all.

“It's your turn to pay for the cab, kid.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> glob i'm so tired.


	35. Heart of Gold Prt. 2 - Zenyatta SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> home and home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on a kick rn, haha. i'll be getting to some requests soon.

Everything was going swimmingly until you got caught. You managed to sneak in through a window, instead of the front door, and you only knocked over a couple things in the process, nothing broken. You made it all the way down the hall to the last bedroom on the left when a sweet little voice stopped you outside the door.

“Lucky?”

Shoot.

Nettie was behind you, head tilted at she looked you.

“You're home, but what happened to your--?”

You quickly tapped a finger to your face in a silent  _ hush. _ Crouching down onto her level, you dug around in your pocket for a sweetie and offered it to her, emphasizing  _ HUSH _ .

When the toffee dropped into her palm, she lit up with a smile and nodded before running off. Easy-peasy.

A few months back, you'd returned to the orphanage to find the cot in the upstairs workshop to be inexplicably gone. When you asked Zenyatta about it, he laughed, face flushing that lovely pink you'd really come to adore.

He told you it was unnecessary, then showed you to your room. His room. The small bedroom that he now wished to share  _ with _ you.

You quickly let yourself in and closed the door quietly behind you. Halfway to success. Now you just had to shed your gear and weapons, then sneak upstairs before…

Before Zen saw you. Was that footsteps coming down the hall?

In a moment of panic, you dove into the closet, hiding amidst the clothes. The door opened a scant moment later.

“Lucky? Nettie said you'd come home…?” That traitor.

Zenyatta looked around the room in confusion before he spotted your feet and laughed. “Are we playing a game?”

He shut the bedroom door with a soft click.

“Why are you hiding, my love? I hope you brought enough sweets for everyone.”

Oh this was so bad, but you had no way of escaping what was about to happen.

Zen reached through the clothes, his hands warm on your back when he found you, even through your jacket. They slid around your waist as he got into the closet, too, blindly hugging you in the dark.

“I've missed you,” he said, so softly. You'd missed him, too. Always did. Gently, you patted the back of his hands, just… waiting for the foot to drop and appreciating his closeness until then. 

Foot to drop? Shoe to drop? It was one of those, human expressions were a bit confusing for you.

“Lucky? May we hug outside of the closet? I wish to see you.” Yikes.

He started tugging at your jacket, laughing lightly when you hesitated to budge. Then his hand found the empty jacket sleeve and he paused.

And paused.

Like he wasn't entirely certain of what he was feeling.

“Lucky… please come out of the closet.” His voice was a whisper.

Zenyatta backed up to give you room, he even helped you detangle from the clothes. The look of pain on his face when he got a full view of you  _ hurt _ , hands reaching for you but falling short. You gently took one and stepped closer to place it on the side of your face.

“Lucky…”

It was okay, really! It was just one arm. You shrugged your pack off with only minor trouble, and somehow managed to yank the missing appendage out to show him. It was salvageable! You just needed to use the workshop for a few hours.

He was still upset, of course, how could he not be. 

You tossed the limb onto the bed, taking him into your… arm, and pressing your forehead to his.  _ Trying _ to reassure him without words. You were fine, it hadn't even hurt that bad. Probably, you'd blacked out a little when it happened.

Zenyatta looped his arms around your neck with a soft sigh and you held him closer, nuzzling lightly against his cheek while you traced letters onto his back.  _ I'm not in pain. I'll be fine. I'm sorry. _

“No, don't be sorry.” Zen's voice was heavy, wet, but he wiped his few tears on your shirt. “I know you don't get hurt on purpose. I just… wish you didn't have to get hurt at all.”

Unfortunately, that wasn't the kind of world you lived in. And you would gladly keep getting hurt if it meant keeping people safe. Good people, like Zenyatta. You could take it, you didn't mind.

He kissed your face in several places, all lingering and full of affection. You leaned into each one. When he was finished, he wiped away any smudges his lips left.

“C'mon, we should get you put back together before dinnertime.”

He tried to smile easy, for you, and you appreciated it dearly. Zenyatta took your arm from the bed, holding it carefully, like it wasn't already damaged. 

Before you headed upstairs, you made sure to grab the bag of toffee from your pack for the rest of the kids. Zen did smile easy, then, love clear in his eyes.

“Always thinking of others.”


	36. Personal Space - Zenyatta VERY NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lina: Hello there! I wonder if it would be possible for you to write some Zen/Reader NSFW. Don’t have a special idea for a oneshot, but maybe uhh their first time? Like, reader is becoming really needy, they are both self-conscious and just learn how to satisfy each other, and it all ends up being really fluffy and heartwarming.  
> I’m so in love with  
> my precious omnic boyfriend!!!!!! Anyway, thank you very much, your writings are amazing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW YOU GUYS PROBLY THOUGHT I WENT ON ANOTHER HIATUS, but i was actually writing this! hahahaha  
> i'm legit the absolute slowest at writing smut bc i always pressure myself into making it as good as possible. but i also really wanted to take on this prompt bc i'm so in love with zenyatta, i don't even care. i love him. ultimate robot boyfriend. i'm so glad i'm not the only technophile here.
> 
> i did my best here to make this really good, so i hope you guys enjoy it! feel free to drop comments! i love them too <3
> 
> EDIT: i forget to say that reader genitalia is a vagina!!!!! look, it's what i have the most experience with okay so it'll appear a lot in porn for me. sorry folks without vaginas.

“ _ Zen _ .”

You arched your hips up slightly, breathless as you worked yourself closer to the edge. In your mind, you held tight onto the fantasy of beautiful hands caressing your skin. Cool metal fingers stroking over your sensitive spots and pinching gently at your nipples while you shiver and groan. You imagined your hands as his, eagerly chasing pleasure until your orgasm washed through your limbs, melting you into your blankets.

Yep, this was your life now.

It still blew your mind that you'd  _ ever _ managed to land on Zenyatta's radar as a romantic interest. Yeah, you had a huge crush on him at the time, but he was also a monk who encouraged peace and harmony. You let people give you money in exchange for very questionable services. Even after you came to Gibraltar, you never thought he'd develope an interest in you further than work colleagues. 

You were never happier to be proven wrong.

You stayed on your bed for a moment, catching your breath and enjoying the tingle on your skin. Oh how nice it would be to have him laying next to you, holding each other. But aside from holding hands and giving him the occasional kiss, your relationship had yet to grow intimate.

_ Fuck, _ you wanted him so bad.

Your pleased smile turned into a small frown, though you tried to fight it off. He was a monk, you respected that. There wasn't a time that he'd even  _ hinted _ at wanting to get intimate with you. Which was fine. You could live with a non-sexual relationship, he was worth it. He was so… worth it.

A pinging sound from your door broke the soft haze you were settling into and you bolted upright, grabbing clothes at random and brushing still-wet hair away from your eyes.

“Coming!”

You unlocked your door and let it slide open, Zenyatta waiting on the other side. Your face flushed lightly, but you were gladly too taken aback by his sweater to be embarrassed about having  _ just _ been masturbating to the thought of this very omnic not but minutes ago.

“ _ Where _ did you get that?”

You let him in while you finished getting dressed from your shower and he smoothed the front of his sweater out. It was garishly yellow.

_ Too Cute To Compute _

He laughed lightly.

“Genji gave it to me this morning.”

You paused as you passed him, leaning up to kiss the side of his face and brushing a light hand over the front of his sweater as well. “I love it.”

“I was hoping you might.” One of his hands covered yours for a moment as he leaned your foreheads together. A happy sigh left you, small and soft, as you let your eyes slip closed and enjoyed the moment for what it was. Worth it, he was so worth it.

 

Occasionally, Lúcio and Hana put together a movie night whenever there was some downtime. Which was, admittedly, rare. But they made the effort regardless. Zenyatta always wanted to go because it was “a great opportunity to bond” with everyone. You went because it felt like a date night, kinda. You were both too busy for real dates, so it was good enough.

It was also really fun seeing everyone in lounge wear and pajamas. Okay,  _ most _ everyone. For some reason, Jesse McCree could not ever be caught in anything less than all of his gear at all times. You half-questioned if the man slept like that.

...Probably.

Once drinks and snacks were passed around, everyone settled into a hodge-podge mix of seating arrangements for the first movie to start. You and Zen ended up sharing the loveseat with Lena. She usually sat in a bean bag chair but it had met an unfortunate (and very messy) end two weeks prior. You were, frankly speaking, thrilled, because it meant you got to spend the whole film cuddled up against your boyfriend to make sure the woman had enough room.

The new sweater was very soft and plush, making Zen very comfortable to lean upon. His arm was around your shoulders (the way he’d seen Zarya sit with Mei), and as the movie started he glanced to you every-so often to make sure you were happy with the set-up. You were, very.

Cuddling up with your boyfriend wasn’t new for you or anything. While dates were difficult to come by, you spent a lot of time together in between work. Taking walks outside, talking, finding a quiet little spot to sit with each other and watch the sunset. You’d also fallen asleep together multiple times, though Zenyatta always seemed worried that you’d find it uncomfortable to cuddle with him for too long. You really never did. Sure, his body was hard and unyielding, but you were soft and could honestly just  _ melt  _ into him and be perfectly happy about it.

The film was recent-ish, but you were finding it difficult to pay it much attention. Zen’s new sweater really was so soft, but you could still feel his frame underneath and your traitorous brain flickered brief clips of your earlier fantasy through your mind. Slowly, your gaze left the holoscreen on the wall, down to Zenyatta’s lap. His other hand rested there, lights from the screen reflecting on the metal surfaces. 

You loved his hands. You loved everything about him, but his hands had always caught your eye the most. They were  _ beautifully _ designed, and he moved them with such grace that it was very difficult to think about them and not want them to touch you literally everywhere. To imagine what those slender digits would feel like on your skin, or deep inside of you--Fuck, you were doing it again.

Your eyes snapped back to the screen.

You were horrible at this.

You also couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down again after only a few minutes. The room was mostly dark, everyone else either watching the movie or already asleep so no one was paying attention. Without thinking, you reached for his free hand and took it in both of yours. Zen glanced over at you, head tilting just a bit, and you smiled at him in response, cuddling in just a bit more as you laced your fingers together. 

His chuckle was soft, courteous of the others, but he gladly returned the hold. 

Though your eyes were on the screen again, your attention was still on his hand. Slowly, your fingers trailed over the back, caressing idly for a while. His palm was warm against yours, while his fingers were cool to touch. You loosened your hold, which he allowed, and set to exploring with both hands. If he had flesh, it would easily become a hand massage. Given metal and rubber instead, you did your best. It was soothing to just… touch him like that. Even the sex-hungry part of your perverted little mind stayed quiet for the time being. It was nice.

What you didn’t know was that you were making it completely impossible for Zenyatta to pay attention to the film on-screen. Your hands were so warm and gentle, curiously exploring all of his little crevices and joints. You hadn’t noticed yet, but he wasn’t even watching the movie anymore, he was watching you. He was always watching you. Perhaps it was a blessing that he had no facial expressions to betray how often his gaze was on you. 

Part of it, he knew, was paranoia. Never in his life had he allowed the emotion to stick around him as much as it did now. He watched you to make sure you were still happy with him, that he wasn’t losing you. He  _ really _ didn’t want to lose you.

Another part of it made him feel a sense of conflicted shame. You were so lovely that he wanted to touch and hold you all the time. It was incredibly selfish of him; you weren’t a belonging to be controlled. But the longing was still there, deep inside of him. As carefully as you were exploring his hand, he wanted to explore you…

Could you ever want that, too? From him?

Lena shifted in her seat, muttering a quick apology as she got up to refresh her drink. It broke you out of whatever trance you’d settled into and you glanced up too quickly for Zenyatta to look away. If he had breath to catch, he’d have lost it when he looked in your eyes.

It felt like his wiring shorted for a faint second, and the electric sensation didn’t leave you untouched either, zipping up your spine in a shiver. Your pupils had gone wide like miniature black holes and Zenyatta felt caught in their pull.

The hand on your shoulder finally moved, gingerly raising to graze against your cheek. You slowly tilted your head into the touch, eyes never leaving his as you pecked the smallest kiss to the tip of his finger. 

Lena returned with a bag of snacks, plopping right back down next to you. As you moved to accommodate your friend, Zenyatta’s arm dropped from your shoulders to your waist and pulled you in closer. You nearly ended up in his lap, and did find yourself wrapped snugly up in both of his arms. The sweater made it even cozier, but there was something unmistakably different about the way he was holding you. Different than usual. It felt like your heart was beating in anticipation.

You tried to settle back and focus on the film again, and nearly managed it. Until you felt it.

The cool tip of a finger against your inner wrist, trailing so slowly along your arm. It was a curious touch, tentative, as though he were asking for permission. Was this really happening?

Your body made the decision before your mind. Trying to remain under everyone else's radar, you turned into Zenyatta's side. He paused his caress as you nuzzled your face against his jaw, hand moving to his chest as you barely whispered. 

“Can we go to bed?”

He knew you didn't mean sleep. You were both momentarily frozen by the boldness of your question. But only for a moment.

With perfect togetherness, you made quiet excuses to those around you. You were tired, going to bed. You'd see everyone in the morning; no one questioned it and bid you goodnight. You weren't exactly the type of couple to sneak away from movie night to go have sex.

You were absolutely sneaking away from movie night to have sex.

Zenyatta's hold on your waist stayed, even as you walked through the halls towards your bedroom. You kept your pace casual, despite how much you wanted to just run and be there already.

It was worth it to wait, though. The moment your door slid shut and locked, you both turned into each other in what was the most passionate embrace you'd yet shared. Despite knowing he couldn't return it, you kissed him with all the hazy heat for him building up in your head. His arms locked around you, scooping you up against his body and you actually moaned for the contact. A small sound in the back of your throat, but he heard it all the same.

“I did not think you desired intimacy with me.” Zenyatta's voice came out soft, almost shy in his admission. It brought a short, but bubbling, chuckle out of you as you pressed more kisses across the plate of his face.

“Then we were thinking the same thing of each other.”

Zenyatta walked you slowly towards the bed, laughing as well. “I must admit, I am much relieved.”

Your heart was racing already, but you smiled gently at him as you both crawled onto the mattress. There was slight hesitancy in you both. Though you'd imagined it many times, this was new for you. Being with an omnic, being with him. Of course, he was in a similar boat, having never been intimate with anyone. But you wanted each other, and were more than happy to figure it out.

“I don't know where to start,” You admitted with a nervous smile, gently bunching his sweater up with your fingers. Zenyatta was even more timid, barely grazing a hand up your arm. There was a light-hearted tone to his voice, though.

“Omnics can, admittedly, be difficult in this regard. We do not experience… pleasure the way humans do… But we do experience satisfaction.”

You drew a little closer on the bed when he did.

“If… it is alright with you, it would bring me a great deal of satisfaction to be able to… explore some curiosities I have.”

His hands found their way to your hips and there was no misunderstanding what he meant. For you, it was literally a dream come true. So, despite the slightest shake in your hands, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up over your head.

Whether or not you caught your boyfriend by surprise was unclear, but he did stare at your now bared skin for longer than necessary before speaking.

"Would it be alright for me to touch you?"

You barely held back what was likely to have been a semi-hysterical giggle, damned nerves. Instead you nodded with a smile, trying to sound smooth. "Anywhere."

They were curious first, his hands on your skin. Smooth metal and hard rubber trailed lightly up over your sides while he marveled at how soft you were. You let your hands rest on his forearms. Not to stop or guide him, just to feel a connection.

"If I do something you dislike…"

"I'll say something," you promised, bumping your faces together lightly. "But I wouldn't worry about it. I don't think there's a lot you could do that I won't like."

Your voice trailed off into something breathless, anticipation crawling up your spine. Zenyatta's fingers were making their way up, exploring sensitive spots that had you shivering, cheeks growing warm.

Zenyatta noticed, of course, how you seemed to dance on the edge of melting into him. He cupped at your chest, thumbs rubbing over your nipples as they perked under the stimulus. 

"Is this alright?"

You hummed as you nodded, moving to grip his shoulders instead. "You can pinch them… if you're gentle." You voice only shook a little.

He was definitely gentle, rolling the nubs between is fingers and sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. You knew you were already soaked, having wanted this for so long.

"Mm, may I, uh, keep kissing you?"

"Of course." Zen lightly bumped your foreheads together again. "I enjoy it more than you may think."

There was something so  _ warm _ in his tone that had you shivering under his touch. You cupped his face in your hands as you left kiss after kiss, moving up on your knees to climb into his lap. He welcomed you there, even shifting slightly to make you more comfortable. 

His hands never left you, stroking and exploring just about everywhere he could reach. Always returning to your chest to pinch and tug and make you squirm. When a hand slid up towards your neck, you drew in a sharp breath that made him pause.

Before he could say anything, you whispered a heated, "don't stop." Your gaze locked onto his, hazy with mounting desire.

He hesitated, but the way you were looking at him was something he'd never seen on you. His hand moved so slowly, covering your neck in a loose grip and raising goosebumps on your skin. Your eyes were begging him for more, though, so he squeezed gently. He had no idea what he was doing, but you moaned so softly he must've been doing it right. 

When your lips parted to let out a shaky breath, Zenyatta's focus momentarily locked onto the barest hint of pink he could see beyond your lips. Without questioning the impulse, he moved from your neck and prodded at your lips. 

Curious, you opened your mouth wider, letting him touch your tongue. You moaned in surprise when he slid two fingers inside, your vaginal walls squeezing around nothing in want. 

"I wish I could kiss you back," Zenyatta admitted quietly, knowing you couldn't respond with his fingers on your tongue. "I've wondered what that must feel like for a long time. You're so warm inside, and wet."

The hint of awe in his voice made you shiver, smiling around his fingers. While you couldn't kiss a mouth he didn't have, you could make do. It was your boyfriend's turn to be surprised when you held his hand in place and started swirling your tongue around his digits, humming soft sounds like moans. It didn't take long for you to lose focus on the world around you. 

His fingers didn't taste like metal, which you'd been expecting. They didn't taste like anything, even as you took your time exploring every surface with your tongue. It was a dirty mimic of a blow job and you loved every second. After a moment of lavishing him in lewd attention, the sound of Zenyatta's fans kicked on louder than you'd ever heard them. It made you grin. 

You let his fingers slip free to cheekily ask, "This okay, babe?"

The same hand you'd been blowing quickly took you by the throat again, the whole room shifting when Zenyatta tipped you onto your back. His weight settling over you only stoked the fire in your core and you clung to him.

"Please show me what to do." Though he didn't breathe, he sounded strangely breathless, curling over you. "Tell me what you like, my love; I'll do anything."

His touch was moving down your skin again, raising goosebumps as he went. You covered his hands with yours, slowly pushing them to the waistband of your pants. With a wiggle, you helped him slide them down to your knees; underwear getting dragged down, too, and exposing your soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. He took them all the way off himself and you shivered, now completely nude in front of your boyfriend for the first time.

Even without facial expression, you could tell his pause was more in awe than anything else. He glanced up to your face, asking, "is this still alright?"

"Yeah," your voice cracked, which was a little embarrassing, but you smiled reassuringly. Despite your nerves, you slowly parted your legs. "Um, have you, do you know what, uh--"

"I'm familiar with your anatomy in a medical context. However, I've never done this before." 

Zenyatta leaned down over you, shifting further back on the mattress. He pressed his face against your tummy for a moment, nuzzling against your skin. You drew in a shaky breath.

“Well, the best way for me is, uh, slowly. It’ll feel best if you take your time.” Though your face burned a little to say these types of things aloud, you swallowed your nerves hard and placed a hand atop his head as he moved further down your body. God you were so fucking ready for this.

Every little touch on your skin felt like a crackle of fire, his beautiful fingers teasing down your sides then gripping your thighs to push them further apart. You gasped softly as he imitated kissing a line down your inner thigh, shivering in delight.

“You’re so lovely like this,” he commented softly, making you flush all the more. His fingers carefully traced your outer labia first, gently pulling them apart with a soft, wet sound. “And pink.”

A giggle left you, trailing off into a hum as he teased your folds with a curious touch.

“And this… is your clitoral hood?” He barely grazed over it, watching you gasp again and nod.

For never having done this before, Zenyatta was a very quick learner when it came to reading you. He found the places you liked most, gentle in his teasing at first, then with more confidence as your breathing grew heavier. Soft sounds turning into pleased moans. His fans kicked on again when you started to squirm. Fuck you were  _ burning _ to have him inside of you.

“Zen,” you breathed in a shaky moan, moving a hand down to cover one of his. His fingers were already slick from playing with you and he let you guide one down to your entrance and barely prod in. “More baby,  _ please _ .”

When he pulled his touch from you entirely, you absolutely whined. Which only made him chuckle as he pulled his sweater off and tossed it somewhere in the room. He returned to leaning down over you, even surprising you with a kiss. You were always glad to kiss his face, loving how he leaned into the touch. This time felt passionate as he hiked one of your legs over his hip and prodded at your entrance again.

You were so soaked that his finger slipped right in, even he made a slight sound of surprise. You? You were in heaven, clenching around that one finger with a moan. “Another, please.”

“You’re so polite,” Zenyatta said, a smile clear in his tone, but he did as you asked. Pulling out the first finger and returning with two. “I’m looking for your g-spot right?”

You could barely hum an answer because he was already stroking his fingers along your walls. Out of some carnal instinct, you rolled your hips against his hand, holding him close as you gasped and moaned. When he grazed the right spot, your breath caught and you shivered hard.

“ _ There _ .”

He paused for a second, retracing his movements until you moaned again. You half-expected him to make a silly, little comment, but one never came. Instead, those talented fingers teased and stroked you until you were a mess on the bed. He kept drawing you close to the edge and letting you sink back down everytime, never cresting. You were literally dripping onto the sheets, growing desperate for that sweet release. The wet sound of him fingering you seemed so loud, but you couldn’t be assed to be embarrassed. You moaned into his neck, even biting him to try and keep your hazy mind grounded in the moment.

“Zen-”

“Do you wish to cum?”

His tone alone had your walls tightening around his fingers.

_ “Yes.” _

Zenyatta swirled his fingers around teasingly, denying you the direct stimulation you needed. He leaned over your ear, and in the smallest, kindest voice, he demanded, “say please.”

“Please!” The word flew out of you without a second thought, nearly shouting it. “Please let me cum; I wanna cum for you, daddy, you’re so  _ good _ \--!”

Your begging cut off, mouth falling open as your boyfriend switched from teasing to quick stroking, snatching you up to the peak of pleasure with every promise of finishing you off. Your hips arched slightly off the bed, so close you could taste euphoria. When his thumb dipped in to stroke over your clit, you were gone.

Maybe you screamed, maybe you didn’t; the world became a blur of hot pleasure as your orgasm washed through you like a rip-tide. Zenyatta held you through it, drawing it out as much as he could to leave you a gasping, shivering mess underneath him. Carefully, he withdrew his fingers, hand completely soaked in your juices. Neither of you spoke for a minute, you didn’t need to, the moment was already so intimate. You tried to lazily pull him down to lay atop you, but he kept most of his weight on his elbows.

When your breathing slowed, you whispered to him, “I love you.”

Zenyatta gently rested his forehead to yours, “I love you, as well.”

He shifted you both until you were on your sides next to each other. Oh it really was so much nicer to have him next to you, instead of daydreaming about it. You gladly draped yourself against him, humming happily.

“...May I ask you a question, my dear?”

“‘Course,” you said lazily, not even opening your eyes.

“Do you harbor… sexual desires for your father?”

If no one on base heard you screaming in pleasure, they definitely heard you dying of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always you can follow me on twitter: @seamobeemo


	37. While It Lasts - McCree SFW-ish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a small apology for the last one taking so damn long. so short and sweet?
> 
> reyes in this one! though the focus love interest is mccree, it's from reyes's pov.

It was against policy, even in Blackwatch. Not that Gabriel really enforced certain things with any regularity. So when he noticed you and McCree getting close, he looked the other way. You'd both had hard lives and he didn't see the harm in letting you bond over your fucked-up childhoods. He let you do more missions together, even gave you down time at the same time.

No harm in it. None at all.

So he really shouldn't have been surprised to happen upon the two of you all over each other in the hall outside your dorm. 

It was late, really late. You'd both had to day off and spent it off-base for the most part. Drinking, at a bar was most-likely, bc you were both obviously sloshed in the way you swayed and giggled between sloppy kisses. McCree was walking you slowly back towards the wall next to your door, murmuring something against your lips that flushed you even more than the alcohol had. His hands were already under your shirt.

Gabriel was just passing by on his way to his own quarters, but he stayed rooted around the corner for reasons he couldn't even admit to himself.

When your back hit the wall, McCree's mouth crashed into yours again for a hungry kiss that had you moaning low, in the back of your throat. Your hands gripped his back for purchase, bunching up his shirt between your fingers while you lost yourself in his passion for you.

Gabriel knew he needed to walk away, this was getting too intimate and he really did respect your privacy.

But then you breathed McCree's name in a gasp, his lips trailing from yours to kiss and bite sweet little hickies down your neck. He groaned when your hands dropped low, shamelessly grabbing at his ass to pull him even closer.

When Gabriel realized he was brushing his hand over a forming bulge in his fatigues, he immediately snatched his hand away. Yep, he needed to leave. This was just inappropriate. 

Making his footsteps silent, he finally passed the hall the two of you were making a scene in. Just deep breathes. You moaned again as he walked away though, much louder that time, and the sound haunted him all the way to his room.

 


	38. Unwinding - Baptiste SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owlette: Do you know how hard it is to find any Baptiste x Reader stories? I absolutely adore your writing style so I'd be so happy if you wrote a chapter with this adorable smug and cheesy dork. Maybe just something with a confident but secretly a bit insecure reader, who is - I dunno - a soldier or something like this. [They] could try really hard to do [their] job as good as possible and maybe puts [themself] under too much pressure. Baptiste could notice and help [them] get some time to relax. I'm gonna say a big Thank You! in advance!  
> \---  
> this is also for everybody else who has requested Baptiste from me but didn't know what they wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda what you asked for??? things don't always go as planned haha. but i also can't fight it once it's already happening.  
> i'm still trying to get used to baptiste's 'voice' so to speak, but i did my absolute best to keep him in character here. thanks for the request!

It was the last place you wanted to be, but Winston hadn’t  _ really _ given you much of a choice. It’d taken him months of everyone surviving off of what little collective first-aid you all knew before he found someone willing to join the cause. Someone with medical experience and field experience both. He wasn’t a doctor technically, but he was apparently enough of a damn good field medic that Winston had really pulled out all the stops convincing him to join the resurgent Overwatch. 

And since your very good friend had gone through all that trouble, the least you could do was actually utilize him when you needed to.

You just… didn’t like medical bays. Too many people in your life had gone into a medical bay and come back out in a body bag. It just gave you the jimmies. 

Augustin didn’t even use the whole medbay, given that he was the only one on duty. Just one examination room and one small lab full of tech that used to be cutting edge ten years ago. Augustin had been weirdly impressed and took it over immediately.

“Ah, you actually came.”

You sat up straight from your horribly slouched position in the corner of the room, ignoring the discomfort in your ribs and back. From the doorway, Augustin gave you a good-natured smile.

“The way Winston talks about you, I thought I might need to go hunting you down.”

You didn’t know what to say back. Aside from the few people on base you were closest to, you weren’t big on… talking. Especially to people you hadn’t known for long and double-especially to beautiful people. Which made your present predicament an awkwardly silent one. He seemed entirely unbothered by your lack of verbal response though, tapping a few things into his datapad as he entered the room.

“He said you just returned from recon, that you had a run-in with a little trouble, yeah?”

Instead of giving an answer, you cut straight to the point, like always.

You moved from the chair to the examination table, pulling off your hoodie and shirt with a hiss. It clearly took the man by surprise because he threw both hands up in front of him, laughing a little at your sudden nudity. Until he saw the wounds littering you back and side, professionalism kicking in.

“ Kou lan guet, how long have you been walking around like this, eh?” He moved quickly around the room, grabbing gloves, tools, and antibiotics. You cleared your throat, holding your clothes to your chest while you waited.

“...I gave it a biotic bath on the ship. I just couldn’t get the glass out myself.”

A little run-in with trouble had been you finding a strong-arm Talon post entirely on accident and being thrown from a seventh story window. While shot at. While you weren’t equipped to engage. Thanks heavens you were fast and slippery.

You turned your head in time to see Augustin smile at you, seemingly pleased to hear you respond. He pulled another seat over to you, putting a tray down on the table.

“Well, you’re in good hands. Though I warn you now, this may sting.”

Of course it stung, but no worse than getting shot. He worked carefully, with very steady hands, removing shards from your skin. Each one landed on the tray with a plinking sound, the only sound in the room aside from the medic mumbling to himself in his native language and making occasional light-heart comments. He washed each wound again when he was finished, using liquid stitch to hold them closed. He'd clearly done this many times.

Aside from a few, faint whimpers, you tried to keep silent, closing your eyes to concentrate on something other than the very attractive man cleaning glass out of your meat.

"I don't see you around base all that much, but everyone seems to know you."

You peeked over your shoulder at him. His smile was kind and, despite his comment being an observation and not a question, you felt compelled to respond.

"...I work a lot."

"I've heard! You're our resident spy, or something like that. Sounds exciting." Another piece of glass pinked onto the tray.

You made a non-committal sound like a hum.

"This place is certainly full of very colorful people, I get a bit lost sometimes. I absolutely love it. How long have you been with Overwatch?"

Since Blackwatch disbanded, but you couldn't say that. He waited patiently for you to find your answer.

"A while."

"Do you work all the time? When do you relax?"

Thirteen years ago? Maybe? Who knew.

"I don't."

The last piece of glass was pulled from your shoulder, Augustin putting pressure on it while he hummed thoughtfully.

"That is… not good for your health."

"Neither is being shot at, but I do that, too."

He laughed again, showing perfectly white teeth. With a light flourish, he finished sealing the last cut, removing his gloves after.

"There, give those a couple of days and you should be good as new."

You nodded, pulling your shirt back on, ready to hop off the table and retreat to more familiar waters. Before you could leave, though, Augustin stopped you. He offered you what appeared to be a tincture.

"For any discomfort. And if any of the cuts open up again, come let me know. I'll let Winston know you're cleared for duty the day after next. Now, I'd like to address your other problem before you go."

You paused in accepting the small bottle, head tilted in confusion. Augustin was smiling again, letting your hands brush against each other.

"In our line of work, relaxation when we can manage it can make the difference between life and death in a fight."

You gave him a look, but he only grinned wider.

"If you're tired and under pressure all the time, it wears you down, which can affect your reaction times. A well rested mind and body stays sharp and ready. Which is why," he shifted to lean against the table, "I'm recommending you take a night off. Tomorrow night. No work, no reports, nothing. And, if you're willing, I'd like to buy you a drink. Sound good?"

You were frozen to the floor, trying to decipher if he was really… flirting with you.

With a handsome smile, he turned back to his datapad. 

"There's a nice little place in town on the beach, I'll be there around, say, six?"

With that, and a wink, he left the room.

And you were left, unsurprisingly, speechless.


	39. Like A River - Reaper NSFW (not porn tho)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rating and TW for: blood and gore, excessive  
> sorry it's kinda dark???? and not very romantic haha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see me on twitter @seamobeemo for more info about my writing if you want more of said writing. maybe even personalized!!!!! i say personalized bc the C word is a naughty word on this website and you just can't say it.
> 
> not here
> 
> they reeeaalllllyyyy don't like that sort of thing here.
> 
> they'll literally threaten to erase several years of hard work here if you even so much as mention it; and if someone salty decides they didn't like the way you ended a story (to which, of course, the natural reaction to to report them and try to get their work erased).
> 
> so yeah! twitter! @seamobeemo  
> apologies in advance for gratuitous overwatch clips.

In the beginning, the hardest thing to get used to was the smell of it. Sharp and suffocating, especially when it was still warm or gushing hot over your fingers.  _ Knowing _ you were breathing in a humid cloud of human blood was enough make you wretch on multiple occasions. 

Like all things, though, you grew numb to it.

The same way you grew numb to the people around you.

You never thought of it as murder. Murder was something bad people did to reasonably good people for selfish reasons. You weren't good or bad, just… capable. The men you ended? They were the bad ones. Who preyed on those weaker than them and took whatever they wanted. From you included.

So you decided to do the same, and what you wanted was their fucking blood.

That's how Death found you: drenched in red, still idly mashing your shiv around in soft, pink brain tissue. You'd been staring at it for what felt like forever, wondering which parts used to be memory or instinct, when his shadow fell over you in an already dim room. His edges were blurred like smoke, but that mask was as stark as the realization that your life was about to end.

No fear flooded into you, though; nor panic to get away. You looked Death in the face, a blank mask of your own making your expression impassive as you dropped your knife and the body slump the rest of the way to the floor.

You stared at each other for a moment before you embraced Death. 

He tensed when your arms went around him, but you meant him no harm. You simply wanted to welcome him; you were done with those monsters anyway. 

He remained tense for a long while, until it was clear you weren’t going to try with him what you’d done to all those men in the compound. Room after room littered with the remnants of beastly men, every wall painted in their blood. No, you wouldn’t do that to him. You were finished.

You were ready for Death to take you, and he did.

He dropped two massive guns onto the floor and slowly scooped you up into his arms, as if cautious you might snap again. Instead, you curled into him, resting your cheek against the hard armor of his shoulder and letting out a content sigh. His voice was a deep thunder that rumbled from his chest to yours, calming the storm in your head.

“Get Biohazard Remediation in here for clean-up.”

Someone answered with a faint, “yessir.” You didn’t look to see that Death wasn’t alone. That he was joined by a dozen troopers in the same red helmets your victims had been wearing. All that was important was that Death was taking you with him. From the compound onto a waiting airship, he carried you the whole way. The blood you were dressed in was drying, making your clothing stick to you skin, but you couldn’t feel discomfort. Numb from your head to your toes, all you knew was the solid form of your savior and the metallic scent coating your lungs.

Wherever he took you was bright, making you flinch until the lights were dimmed. The squeak of a knob and the sudden cold of water spraying over you both, pattering on the leather of his hood and raining down on you. You finally opened your eyes again.

Death was watching you as the blood slowly melted from your skin. He wasn’t… hurting you, like you expected him to. Dark, wispy clouds joined the showers steam as it moved from frigid to hot. So numb, you couldn’t even feel your arm moving, fingers touching that white mask and leaving trails of red. He didn’t stop you, letting you push the mask back. Letting you see the horrors within.

“...Are you Death?” Your voice didn’t even sound like you, the words tasting wrong on your tongue.

Glowing eyes watched you intensely before he answered with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“I’m the Reaper.”

You smiled, faintly but it was there. And you gently cupped the clammy, cadaver-white skin of his scarred cheek, relaxing against him more as you hummed. “Me, too…”

The broken skin around his mouth ticked upwards for a moment in a smile to match your own.

“I know.”

It didn’t matter to you what happened next, what the Reaper chose to do with you. Live or die. Talon or no. You weren’t a murderer, you were just capable, and you had absolutely nothing left. Except the mercy of the Reaper, the numbness of your heart, and a world that would forever stink of blood.

  
  



	40. Crazy For You Still - Reaper SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shrekenthusiast: hi! so i absolutely adored stone cold crazy for you (the reaper x reader fic) and if you have the time for it, may i request a sequel to that? maybe something where they're a little bit closer, or maybe acknowledging the vibes / tension that built up on the night of the party? maybe they get a little flirty at some point? hehehehhehehe i'm just weak and i want a lil kiss from reaper....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey i'm still alive. and i did this.  
> sorry i've really not been writing hardly at all recently. i've been a lovely combination of stressed/depressed/anxious/stressed/uhhh  
> yeah all that.  
> i'm trying to get back into this kind of stuff though, i do miss writing reader-inserts a lot. i was doing it so much before. i'm kinda??? working on something that's gonna be longish?? if anyone here is into Maximilien and wants his robo-dick, then it might be something you want to watch out for in the coming months. maybe. if i finish it haha.  
> anyway, enjoy. love y'all.

It was very difficult for you to describe your life now. So it was a blessing that literally no one asked, because you were the worst at coming up with quick verbal explanations on the spot when you weren't pretending to be someone else. If anyone noticed the changes in your routine, they kept it to themselves. Likely out of fear, and you could understand why.

You stared at the holoscreen, an almost glaze over your eyes that diminished anytime the story being played out on screen moved towards action over boring dialogue. Then back to another lull of plot. You didn't care much for the plot. The show was supposed to be historically accurate, but there was no way people back in those days did any of that shit being solely driven by something as weak as  _ love _ . There was an unrealistic lack of anger, betrayal, or bitterness. It was numbing your mind to watch.

Behind you, the Reaper moved, causing your whole seat to shift. Given that he was your seat. He was leaning across the couch, trying somewhat to appear discreet about pulling the box of tissues closer. So you pretended not to notice, even though he had to tilt your entire body to nab the box. Even though you both knew well and good that he always cried at the really mushy bits. A secret you'd take to your grave. He was the only reason you put up with the show. You liked the action and Reaper liked the love story. It was one of the ways you spent downtime together.

Your relationship with Reaper had evolved very quickly, once he made it apparent that he was interested in you as more than a subordinate. Much more. You moved into his private quarters because he asked it of you. There was rarely a time that the two of you could be separated, aside from his council meetings and solo assignments. He took care of you now more than ever before, and you did your damndest to take care of him in return.

You gave him time to wipe his eyes and stuff the balled up tissue into his hoodie pocket before turning your head to see him. He tilted his head to look at you, too, and you could just barely make out the red of his irises behind the mask. Without words, you turned a little on his lap, feeling his grip on your hip tighten for just a moment before it relaxed again. You weren't trying to leave, you just wanted to cuddle in a little closer to his chest. Something he welcomed readily.

When you were alone like this, Reaper would shed his battle gear and weapons in favor of hoodies and sweatpants. Soft, comfortable clothes. It was a surprise at first, he was usually all hard edges and prickly personality. Until it was just the two of you, then he was the most comfortable seat in the room and you felt privileged to be the only person allowed to sit there. There was only one thing that never changed.

That mask.

You were, unarguably, the person he trusted the most in Talon. You'd yet to see him without it. To see his face. For you, the mask  _ was _ his face. It greeted you when you woke, watched you during training. You kissed it when you were together. He never took it off. Never kissed you on the lips. Not even when he had you folded in half, pounding you passionately into your shared mattress until you both came apart at the seams.

You knew there was something underneath it. Cold lips would brush the back of your neck when you were still bleary-eyed from sleep. Sweet murmurs of affection you never expected to hear in your hellscape life warmed the hollow spaces in your heart. You  _ lived _ for the way he sounded when he found peace inside of you. You never tried to take the mask off. Never intended to betray that trust.

"What?"

You realized he was still staring at you, the show playing in the background. You'd been staring back.

"Nothing," you murmured, turning even more into him. You pressed your face against his neck to kiss his clammy skin. A soft sound rumbled in his chest, cold hand slipping up the back of your shirt to be warmed against your skin. It took a lot to fight squirming away from the sensation. 

"It's never nothing when you have that look on your face." His voice came out soft, a gentle tone you were slowly getting used to. His next words came out softer still. "Talk to me."

There was a moment of hesitation where the show's dialogue came into focus.

_ "--Would burn the oceans to bring her back into my arms.--" _

"This is weird for me…" Reaper pulled you in tighter. You could feel him growing tense underneath you, so you were quick to explain yourself. Keeping your face firmly in his neck. "I mean, I'm not used to… You make me feel special?"

Slowly, he started to relax again, trailing his fingers soothingly down your spine.

"I care about you." The way he said it made it sound so simple.

"That's what's weird for me."

He made a sound of amusement and you felt that mask against your hair.

"Bad weird?"

You extracted your face from his skin, looking up at him again in the dim room.

"Good weird. ...I care about you, too."

Those words didn't even come close to describing the  _ warmth _ he distilled inside of you every moment you were together, and you both knew that. But any other word, any other phrase, was far too big for either of you to shoulder just yet.

Again, silence fell between you. No more words were needed. Reaper blindly reached for the remote, turning the holoscreen off mid-monologue and covering you both in the dark of his windowless quarters. More than darkness, you could feel his shadows like a cool haze around your ankles, drifting up under your clothes to caress what was hidden from him. Distracting as it was, you were momentarily confused when something hard landed in your lap. 

It was smooth in places, but cracked in others. Your fingers drifted over the surface of it curiously, unable to see anything yet. It was as your fingers slipped into the eye-holes that understanding dawned on you.

And that realization came with a pair of cool lips colliding against yours. You surrendered to the feeling without hesitation.

His lips were rough, scarred, but still somehow soft. They paired perfectly against yours, guiding the kiss with confidence. Teeth nipped carefully at the edges of your scar, making you smile and earning a slight smile in return. His tongue was warmer than you'd been expecting. Almost hot. And he kissed you like he had the rest of your life to slowly burn you in his embrace.

All together it felt like you'd finally made it to heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter is @seamobeemo  
> if anyone is interested in playing overwatch with me on the PS4, my username is o-seamo, just let me know how you found me in a message with the friend request. deuces.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave all requests on chapter one!


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